of  Truth  and 


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\>8    ^       By  OEOROa  W.  SANPORD 


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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


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Inspirational    S/T 

1   OGmS  TRUTH  AND  HUMOR 
^    ^    ^   By  GEORGE  W.  SJINFORD    ^    ^ 


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PERUSE,  REFLECT,  THEN  READ  AGAIN 
BEFORE  YOU  JUDGE  WITH  TONGUE  OR  PEN, 
IF  THEN  THE  TRUTH  YOU  CANNOT  VIEW, 
PLEASE  READ  AGAIN,  'TIS  HERE  FOR  YOU. 


...J902... 

iKUN    PRINTING    COMPANY 
IX>S  ▲NGBUES,   CAZ.. 


J) 


Copyright  1902,  by  George  W.  Sanford. 


AI.I,  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


aiberefore. 


HEREFORE  be  punished  forever,  I  pray, 
For  the  slight  little  sins  that  we  do  to-day? 
Will  sorrow  forever  encompass  the  soul, 
For  our  thoughts  and  our  acts  that  we  could 
not  control? 

Will  the  finger  of  scorn  be  pointed  by  those 

Who  have  sins  of  their  own  they  would  not  disclose? 

Oh!  can  we  not  love  or  sympathy  show. 

For  those  who  forever  leave  tracks  where  they  go? 

Can  we  not  remember  some  part  of  the  time, 
That  to  err  is  but  human,  to  forgive  is  divine? 
The  Master  did  tell  them  (and  they  left  her  alone) 
That  he  without  sin  should  cast  the  first  stone. 

Meet  error  with  wisdom,  and  anger  with  love. 
Thus  fitting  ourselves  for  the  mansions  above. 

George  W.  Sanford. 


lit 


DEDICATED  TO 

My  Father  James  D.  Sanford 

— and — 
TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  WIFE 

Leora  Jlugusta  Sanford 


M 


INVOCATION. 

OLY  angels  crowned  with  love, 
Come  with  healing  on  thy  wings, 

Lift  our  thoughts  to  things  above. 
Help  us  soar  where  angel  sings. 

Guide  and  cheer  us  on  our  way, 

Ever  guide  our  steps  aright, 
Teach  us  how  to  work  and  pray. 

Faith  give  place  to  blessed  sight. 

O,  could  our  eyes  but  be  made  o'er 
So  we  could  scan  the  other  shore. 
May  be  we'd  not  feel  half  so  sad, 
May  be  that  things  are  not  so  bad 

As  they  appear  to  be. 
May  be  that  joy  would  fill  our  heart 
And  bid  all  gloom  and  grief  depart. 

If  we  could  only  see. 

The  day  will  come  when  all  shall  see; 

The  veil  will  lift  from  shore  to  shore; 
Faith  blends  with  hope  and  charity, 

And  right  will  reign  forevermore — 
The  day  that  prophets  long  foretold 

And  poets  sung  in  years  gone  by. 
When  men  will  lose  their  greed  for  gold 

And  turn  their  thoughts  to  realms  on  high. 


I 


HOPE  OF  IMMORTALITY. 

N  vain  we  tread  this  world  of  strife 

And  do  our  duty  here; 
If  this  is  all  there  is  in  life: 

Its  comforts  and  its  cheer.  ^ 

Must  we  for  aye  in  darkness  grope, 

Without  one  ray  of  light? 
Weak  is  our  faith,  small  is  our  hope 

And  veiled  our  inner  sight. 

Jesus  the  Christ  has  shown  the  way, 
He  came  forth  from  the  dead; — 

Blest  proof  of  immortality — 
Why  should  we  fear  and  dread. 

To  clothe  ourselves  in  garments  new, 

Brighter  than  lilies  wear, 
To  live  in  heaven,  its  glories  view — 

Its  richest  treasures  share. 

If  Jesus  then  rose  from  the  dead. 

We  all  may  surely  rise; 
God's  laws  are  ever  true  and  just — 

They  can't  be  otherwise. 

If  Jesus  then  arose  and  spake 
To  the  women  at  the  tomb. 
Why  may  not  we  the  silence  break 
And  dispel  doubt  and  gloom? 

Then  think  not  strange  if  loved  ones  come, 

But  ever  greet  them  here; 
They  come  to  us  from  spirit  homes 

To  comfort  and  to  cheer. 

Be  not  afraid  to  greet  them  here, 

But  open  wide  the  door. 
They  are  our  friends,  they  come  to  cheer 

And  love  us  as  before. 


REVERIE. 

'^TJlS  early  morn  when  all  is  still, 

1     All  nature's  wrapped  in  deep  repose; 
Before  the  sun  has  kissed  the  hill, 
Or  dewdrops  sparkle  on  the  rose. 

The  stars  are  fading  one  by  one, 

The  moon  has  sunk  to  rest. 
The  east  shows  signs  of  day  begun — 

All  nature's  at  her  best. 

When  I  behold  such  scenes  as  these, 

My  soul  is  filled  with  love 
To  Him  who  made  the  flowers. 

The  trees,  the  sun  and  all  above. 

The  sun  has  kissed  the  mountain  top, 

The  birds  begin  to  sing, 
The  little  lambs  to  skip  and  hop — 

There's  life  in  everything. 

Who  made  the  glorious,  brilliant  sun, 

To  man  forever  blessed; 
The  stars  to  shine  when  day  is  done 

And  we  lie  down  to  rest  ? 

'Tis  God's  own  work,  he  made  them  all: 
They  came  at  His  command. 

From  grains  of  sand  to  mountains  tall. 
The  rivers,  seas  and  land. 

He  made  all  things  in  earth's  domain, 

In  heaven,  space  or — well. 
We  need  not  speak  that  horrid  name 

Where  none  would  like  to  dwell. 

He  made  them  all,  and  called  them  good, 

Not  only  good,  but  very, 
Who'd  call  them  bad  then,  if  they  could, 

To  my  mind  is  the  query. 


And  now  it  makes  me  feel  so  sad 

That  tears  come  in  my  eyes, 
To  think  that  good  should  turn  out  bad 

Instead  of  otherwise. 

Begone,  oh  grief,  I'll  wipe  my  eyes 

And  take  a  better  view, 
And  now  I  find  to  my  surprise, 

'Twas  faulty  eyes  that  I  looked  through. 

Moral — Let's  never  judge  a  friend  or  foe 
And  say  they're  doing  wrong. 
Unless  we  first  ouselves  shall  know, 
Our  eyes  are  clear  and  strong. 

Best  leave  the  j  udging  all  to  Him 
Who  made  them  good  at  first; 

If  we  should  try  to  fix  the  thing 
We'd  soon  make  matters  worse. 


BRIGHTER  DAY. 

^TKS,  a  brighter  day  is  dawning, 
X?     And  me  thinks  'tis  almost  here; 
We  will  welcome  in  the  morning, 
'Twill  be  filled  with  light  and  cheer. 

It  will  drive  away  the  sadness 
That  may  hover  round  our  home; 

Child  of  Earth,  grope  not  in  darkness. 
For  the  dawn  of  day  has  come. 

Tarry  not  within  the  shadow, 
Step  forth  boldly  in  the  light; 

There's  a  light  on  hill  and  meadow. 
Drives  away  the  gloom  of  night. 


(! 


Yes,  the  sun  is  always  shining, 
Though  we  may  not  feel  its  ray; 

Cease  your  sorrow  and  repining, 
Darkest  night  will  flee  away. 

Turn  your  back  upon  the  shadow, 
Set  your  face  firm  toward  the  right; 

Flowers  are  budding  in  the  meadow, 
Trees  are  blooming  on  the  height. 

Darkest  days  will  soon  be  over, 

Earth  life  passes  swift  away; 
Soon  we'll  cross  the  mystic  river 

Where  there  is  eternal  day. 

J' 
COULD  I. 

OULD  I  but  leave  some  written  word 

That  friends  would  prize  when  I  am  gone. 

Some  thought  by  which  the  soul  is  stirred, 
Or  even  some  sweet  little  song. 

I'd  haste  and  write  without  delay; 

To  us  there  is  no  promise  given; 
This  spark  of  life  on  earth  to-day, 

May  on  the  morrow  shine  in  heaven. 

Then  let's  improve  each  shining  hour 
And  lend  a  hand  to  those  in  need; 

The  tempter's  voice  will  lose  its  power 
If  we  the  highest  light  will  heed. 

Open  the  windows  of  the  soul 

And  let  the  light  come  pouring  in; 

'Tis  not  for  part,  but  for  the  whole, 
And  it  will  joy  and  comfort  bring. 

Then  shed  abroad  the  love  you  have 
And  daily  thus  increase  your  store; 

The  more  you  give,  the  more  you'll  have, 
For  giving  but  makes  room  for  more. 


(g 


10 

LOVE. 

OME  listen  to  my  story! 

I'd  write  a  poem  grand, 
That  should  resound  from  shore  to  shore, 

In  every  clime  and  land. 
A  poem  that  would  lift  the  soul 

To  higher  things  above, 
A  poem  that  would  tell  of  God 

And  his  most  wonderous  love. 

His  love  is  like  the  morning  star 

That  comes  before  the  day. 
It  comes  to  cheer  the  mariner, 

And  guides  him  on  his  way. 
It  bids  the  darkest  spots  grow  bright, 

Illumines  the  clouded  soul, 
And  sends  its  rays  of  cheering  light 

O'er  all,  from  pole  to  pole. 

His  love  is  like  the  glorious  sun 

That  ushers  in  the  day; 
It  comes  to  each  and  every  one; 

We  feel  it  when  we  pray. 
'Tis  love  that  speeds  the  carrier- dove 

Homeward  to  find  its  mate, 
She  tarries  not  to  rest  her  wings 

Though  distance  may  be  great. 

lyove  is  the  builder  of  all  things, 

No  matter  great  or  small, 
From  bees  that  hum  to  birds  that  sing, 

'Tis  love  that  makes  them  all. 
And  everything  that  creeps  on  earth, 

Or  soars  in  realms  so  fair, 
'Twas  God's  own  love  that  gave  it  birth 

And  stamped  his  image  there. 


11 

And  he  who  will  can  plainly  see 

That  love  doth  govern  all, 
And  all  that  are,  and  are  to  be, 

Are  subject  to  his  call. 
Love  is  a  builder,  and  its  power 

Is  felt  from  shore  to  shore; 
It  never  tires,  but,  hour  by  hour, 

It  builds  forever  more. 

J' 
SLUMBERING  GERMS. 

SLEEPING  'midst  the  dust  of  ages 
Quietly  a  germ  did  lay, 
Waiting  for  one  of  the  sages 
To  give  it  the  light  of  day. 

There  it  waited,  there  it  slumbered, 
'Midst  the  dirt  and  dust  of  years. 

Heeding  not  the  days  unnumbered, 
Caring  not  for  passing  years. 

And  the  wise  men  of  the  ages 
Looked  not  on  the  dusty  floor. 

But  they  searched  the  mystic  pages 
For  the  truths  they  thought  they  bore. 

But  they  found  not  what  they  wanted, 
For  the  books  hold  not  in  store 

What  lay  in  the  dust  undaunted 
'Neath  the  very  shoes  they  wore. 

What  great  truth  was  it  there  hidden 

In  the  dust  upon  the  floor? 
Could  it  e'er  come  forth  unbidden, 

Must  it  for  aye  be  trampled  o'er  ? 

Time  reveals  that  life  immortal 
Rests  within  each  speck  of  earth, 

It  but  needs  a  spark  eternal. 
Giving  it  a  conscious  birth. 


12 


AT  SEA. 


WHEN  first  we  launch  upon  life's  sea, 
Our  barque  is  very  light  and  frail; 
First  angry  waves,  we  lost  would  be, 
But  loving  hands  set  every  sail. 

And  then  as  we  in  stature  grow, 
We're  trusted  with  some  little  care; 

At  length  we  think  that  we  can  row 
And  greater  burdens  we  can  bear. 

We're  not  content  until  we  sail; 

We  know  our  barque  is  bright  and  new, 
We  think  that  it  will  ride  the  gale, 

We'll  always  keep  the  land  in  view. 

And  so  we  sail  with  masts  of  pride; 

Our  rudder,  too,  is  built  of  hope, 
We  think  all  storms  we'll  safely  ride, 

With  all  life's  dangers  we  can  cope. 

We're  sailing  on  the  deep  blue  sea; 

There's  not  a  cloud  to  dim  the  sky. 
The  breeze  is  fair  as  it  can  be, 

As  homeward  o'er  the  waves  we  fly. 

The  captain  takes  the  time  of  day, 
And  then  with  smile  upon  his  face: 
"If  naught  doth  happen  on  the  way 

We  soon  will  reach  our  resting  place." 

But  look  ahead,  is  there  a  gale? 

A  simoon  from  a  distant  sea? 
We  have  no  time  to  reaf  our  sail. 

When  crash !  it  strikes  us  on  the  lea. 

Our  ship  is  staunch  as  man  can  make, 
And  yet  she  groans  like  one  in  pain; 

Our  masts  lie  trailing  in  the  wake, 
Our  rudder,  too,  is  broke  in  twain. 


13 


Our  ship  is  drifting  with  the  gale, 
With  all  her  masts  and  rudder  gone; 

And  while  we  pray  for  land  or  sail, 
The  angry  billows  bear  us  on. 

The  tempest  rages,  night  sets  in 
And  spreads  her  mantle  over  all; 

We  cannot  hear  above  the  din 

The  captain's  voice,  tho'  loud  the  call. 

And  now  in  darkness  and  in  gloom 
We  hear  the  thundering  breakers  roar; 

We  fear  the  sea  will  be  our  tomb. 
Or  we'll  be  dashed  upon  the  shore. 

Our  ship  is  doomed,  it  cannot  ride 
This  raging,  wild,  tempestuous  sea; 

Oh  Thou  who  rules  the  storm  and  tide, 
Please  hear  our  prayer  and  set  us  free. 

What  light  is  that  athwart  the  sky? 

A  friendly  rocket  signal  call; 
In  trumpet  tones  we  hear  the  cry, 

"Cheer  up!  we'll  try  to  save  you  all." 

Our  prayer  is  heard,  and  help  is  near, 
And  thro'  the  darkness  and  the  gloom 

We  hear  the  boatman's  hearty  cheer 

As  toward  our  helpless  barque  they  come. 

Oh  friendly  aid  in  time  of  need! 

We  all  should  answer  to  the  call; 
A  loving  word,  a  smile,  or  deed 

May  save  a  brother  'ere  he  fall. 

Must  we  in  darkness  always  grope? 

Is  there  no  light  or  guiding  star? 
Is  there  no  ray  or  gleam  of  hope, 

No  word  to  cheer  us  from  afar? 


B 


14 


Is  there  no  echo  from  the  tomb? 

And  is  there  none  to  hear  and  save? 
Must  we  go  down  in  doubt  and  gloom, 

And  lie  forever  in  the  grave  ? 

No;  look  ahead,  there  is  a  light 
That  far  exceeds  the  light  of  day; 

'Tis  shown  to  us  by  angels  bright. 
And  they  will  guide  us  on  our  way. 

And  now  from  darkness  of  the  grave 
We  hear  our  loved  one's  friendly  call; 

We  hear  your  prayer,  we  come  to  save; 
We  can  and  will  now  save  you  all. 

PRAYER  AND  SONG. 

EAR  angel  guide,  come  to  us  now, 
And  let  us  here  commune  with  thee; 

"Place  thy  soft  hands  upon  each  brow. 
Open  our  eyes  that  we  may  see. ' ' 

Oh,  fill  our  hearts  with  life  divine, 

Illumine  our  minds  with  truth  and  love, 

And  may  our  thoughts  forever  shine 
Like  beacon  lights  from  heights  above. 

Help  us  to  build  our  mansions  strong, 
That  time,  nor  tide,  nor  flood  can  shake; 

Retain  the  right,  reject  all  wrong. 

Build  walls  of  truth  that  cannot  break. 

Help  us  to  drive  away  all  fear. 

Bid  all  our  doubts  and  gloom  depart, 

And  may  we  feel  thy  presence  near, 
To  fill  with  peace  each  anxious  heart. 

Oh,  angel  guide,  show  us  the  way 
To  conquer  all  that  is  not  best; 

And  may  we  never  from  it  stray, 
For  it  doth  lead  to  heavenly  rest. 


(g 


IS 


WORDS  WITH  WINGS. 

OULD  we  but  write  new  words  with  wings, 

And  tell  of  life  why  it  begins; 
And  why  the  throbbing  of  the  heart 
Should  ever  in  our  being  start, 
Or  why  we  ever  came  at  all 
To  dwell  on  this  terrestrial  ball; 
To  taste  the  joys  and  feel  the  pain, 
And  live  them  o'er  and  o'er  again; 
To  feel  the  nerves  within  us  thrill 
And  haste  to  do  our  silent  will; 
To  feel  the  blood  course  in  each  vein. 
To  feed  the  muscle,  bone  and  brain. 
It  sends  new  strength  to  every  part — 
This  constant  throbbing  of  the  heart. 
We  know  not  where  the  power  lies, 
In  head  or  heart,  or  in  the  skies; 
Each  member  working  for  the  whole 
And  all  a  building  for  the  soul. 
To  stop  the  building  were  in  vain. 
For  all  are  links  in  endless  chain, 
And  no  one  moves  an  inch  along, 
But  also  moves  ten  million  strong, 
And  where  one  moves  we  all  must  go. 
No  matter  whether  fast  or  slow. 
New  light  doth  shine  upon  the  earth 
From  every  child  that  love  gives  birth; 
To  every  child  that  life  is  given 
A  soul  is  being  raised  for  heaven. 
We  often  sigh  for  better  days. 
More  light,  and  love,  and  songs  of  praise; 
The  things  of  earth  that  vex  us  now 
May  shine  like  diamonds  on  our  brow; 
Our  works  will  leave  when  we  are  gone, 
If  we  do  right  and  shun  the  wrong; 


M 


16 


Life  not  yet  born  may  bless  our  days, 

Tongues  not  yet  strung  may  sing  our  praise. 

To  thoughts  a  spark  of  life  is  given 

And  we  may  meet  them  yet  in  heaven. 

What  can  we  say,  then,  of  the  breath; 

It  comes  at  birth  and  goes  at  death; 

It  stays  with  us  from  day  to  day. 

At  length  it  glides  from  us  away, 

A  spark  that  we  cannot  control — 

It  must  be  portion  of  the  soul. 

Could  we  but  write  of  things  like  these; 

So  we  could  cast  them  on  the  breeze, 

Oh,  how  we'd  love  to  see  them  soar, 

Nor  sigh  if  they  return  no  more. 

SONG. 

OW  sweet  when  earthly  life  is  o'er 
To  meet  the  friends  we  used  to  love. 

To  love  them  as  we  did  before 

And  dwell  with  them  in  realms  above. 

This  earthly  life  will  soon  be  o'er. 
And  we  shall  reach  our  resting  place. 

Where  sorrow  shall  be  felt  no  more 
And  sin  no  more  our  souls  disgrace. 

All  hail  the  day  when  truth  shall  reign 
And  error  find  no  place  for  birth, 

When  love  shall  rule  on  land  and  main, 
And  war  no  more  be  known  on  earth. 

That  blessed  day  we  may  not  see, 

But  it  will  surely,  surely  come, 
When  all  the  nations  will  be  free, 

And  love  will  rule  in  every  home. 


17 

Love  is  the  main  spring  of  each  heart, 

It  bears  us  up  in  darkest  hour, 
Without  it  life  would  be  so  dark, 

That  mid-day  sun  would  lose  its  power. 
Then  hail  the  day  when  love  shall  lead, 

And  all  accept  her  magic  power; 
When  all  the  earth  her  voice  shall  heed. 

Her  light  illumine  the  darkest  hour. 

J' 
THOUGHTS. 

lACH  word  or  thought  by  us  expressed, 
\     It  goes  forth  maybe  to  bless; 
Or  it  may  be  in  evil  wrought, 
And  will  not  rest  till  it  doth  find 
A  lodgment  in  some  genial  clime, 
Where  it  may  safely  grow. 
Securely  fixed  upon  the  mind, 
lyike  tendril  of  some  clinging  vine, 
It  lives  for  weal  or  woe. 

Yes,  thoughts  are  things  w^hose  silken  wings 
Outspeed  the  rays  of  light. 
They  even  trace  the  realms  of  space 
To  planets  far  from  sight. 
Yes,  they  may  stray  to  milky  way. 
And  view  her  systems  o'er, 
Where  beat  on  beat,  in  rythms  sweet, 
Is  heard  forevermore;  so  pleasant  to  our  ears 
Is  Nature's  band  from  central  stand. 
The  music  of  the  spheres. 
Thoughts  do  possess  the  power  to  bless, 
And  lift  to  higher  light,  where  we  shall  see 
The  home  to  be  in  mansions  pure  and  bright. 
They  tell  of  bliss  ahead  of  this. 
Where  we  shall  see  them  face  to  face, 
The  angels  bright,  who  veil  from  sight 
All  thoughts  that  would  disgrace. 


18 

PASSION— No.   1. 

@H!  Passion,  be  still  and  let  us  alone, 
We're  scaling  the  heights  where  thou  art  unknown; 
No  more  can  thy  wiles  e'er  lead  us  astray. 
For  the  calm  voice  of  reason  we'll  ever  obey. 
Thou  must  dwell  forever  in  the  low  lands  of  time, 
For  thou  mayst  not  enter  these  bright  realms  sublime; 
Yes,  thou  must  e'er  dwell  where  wild  waters  flow 
And  scatter  their  wreckage  wherever  they  go. 
Thou  doest  dwell  with  the  youth  so  bright  and  so  fair 
And  show  to  the  world  that  thy  presence  is  there; 
Thou  changest  their  lives,  filled  with  innocent  glee, 
And  in  its  sweet  place  thou  dost  give  misery; 
Thou  takest  them  in  youth  from  the  influence  of  home, 
And  leavest  them  when  aged  to  totter  alone; 
Thou  takest  them  when  gladness  doth  shine  in  the  eye, 
And  leavest  them  in  sorrow  to  mourn  and  to  cry; 
O,  passion,  what  hast  thou  not  done  for  us  all? — 
Thou  must  have  been  there  when  Eve  had  her  fall, 
And  must  have  been  present  in  Adam's  retreat 
When  he  ate  of  the  fruit  he  was  told  not  to  eat; 
Thou  didst  smile  at  thy  work  when  they  drove  out  the  pair 
And  closed  up  the  gate  to  the  garden  so  fair. 
Thou  didst  follow  them  out  and  bid  Cain  kill  his  brother; 
Yes,  it  must  have  been  you,  for  there  was  no  other 
Who  could  do  such  a  deed  when  life  was  so  fair, 
And  the  beauties  of  Nature  were  seen  everywhere; 
Oh,  Passion!  All  crimes  can  be  traced  to  thy  door, 
O,  when  wilt  thou  leave  us,  to  trouble  no  more? 
Oh!  must  we  forever  let  thee  hold  full  sway. 
Or  wilt  thou  not  sometime  to  reason  give  way? 
Can  we  never  arise  above  thy  control. 
Let  the  calm  voice  of  reason  be  guide  for  the  soul? 
Her  light  is  the  light  that  comes  forth  from  Him 
Who  gave  us  the  spark  that  shall  never  grow  dim. 
O,  Passion,  be  still  and  let  Reason  hold  sway! 
Her  path  is  the  path  that  will  not  lead  astray; 


19 


Her  voice  is  the  voice  that  will  lead  us  to  rest, 

Where  the  bright  star  of  love  will  shine  in  each  breast; 

For  she  is  the  guide  that  brings  us  sw^eet  peace, 

Her  joys  are  the  joys  that  never  shall  cease, 

Her  law^s  are  the  laws  we  should  keep  day  by  day; 

Her  tasks  will  grow  lighter  the  more  we  obey; 

Her  light  wdll  illumine  and  fill  every  soul 

While  the  years  and  the  ages  eternally  roll. 

Forever  may  wisdom  be  our  guide  here  below, 

And  may  she  go  wdth  us  wherever  we  go, 

J' 
PASSION— No.  2. 

@,   Passion,  once  more  we  will  take  up  the  strain; 
We've  been  asked  by  a  friend  to  try  it  again. 
We  wish  not  to  write  of  a  steed  run  away. 
But  one  that  works  quietly  hitched  to  a  shay; 
Not  one  that  will  balk  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
And  spend  all  his  force  in  breaking  the  thill, 
But  one  who  e'er  patiently  toils  on  the  road. 
Bears  in  mind  that  the  thills  help  to  bring  up  the  load, 
Who  never  gives  up  till  the  summit  is  won, 
And  then  can  reflect  on  the  good  he  has  done. 
For  passion  without  reason,  wath  her  fires  ill  spent, 
Like  a  ship  with  full  sail  to  destruction  is  bent; 
Who  never  once  thinks  of  the  terrible  shock 
Until  with  a  crash,  she  is  stuck  on  a  rock; 
But  passion  restrained  by  the  power  of  the  soul, 
Whose  fires  never  burn  beyond  her  control, 
Is  like  a  good  ship  who  stems  every  blast 
Till  the  harbor  is  reached  and  her  anchors  are  cast. 
It  may  be  when  life's  troubled  journey  is  done 
And  we  can  look  back  on  the  path  we  have  come, 
We  shall  find  thou  hast  been  a  friend  in  disguise, 
That  without  thy  kind  aid  we  never  should  rise. 
O,  Passion,  forsooth,  you're  a  strange  little  elf; 
We  sometimes  mistrust  you're  the  best  part  of  self. 


20 
INSPIRATION. 

Like  the  beating  of  the  wavelet,  like  the  ripple  of  the  rill, 
Like  the  gentle  breezes  fanning  on  the  brow  of  wooded  hill, 
Gently  comes  an  inspiration  and  it   gives  us  thoughts 

divine, 
And  we  place  them  in  our  store  house,   to  be  used  some 

future  time. 
As  the  rain  upon  the  mountain  finds  its  way  to  vales  below. 
As  the  rills  that  feed  the  rivers  gently  murmer  as  they  go , 
So  the  light  of  inspiration  from  a  higher  source  doth  come, 
And  we  listen  to  the  voices  as  they  tell  of  brighter  home. 
Like  the  calm  upon  the  ocean  when  the  storm  its  force 

has  spent. 
Like  the  gentle  light  of  heaven  from  the  starry  firmament, 
Comes  to  us  the  welcome   message   from   the   glorious 

realms  above. 
Telling  us  that  life's  worth  living  if  we  live  for  truth  and 

love. 
Like  the  dew  upon  the  roses  sending  forth  their  rainbow 

hue. 
Or  the  sunlight  in  the  diamond  as  it  flashes  into  view. 
So  the  light  of  inspiration  is  in  store  for  you  and  me; 
It  is  seen  on  highest  mountain,  it  is  found  in  deepest  sea. 
It  is  heed  in  stately  pine  tree  on  the  hillside  all  alone — 
Funeral  sighs  are  in  the  branches,  but  there's  life  within 

the  cone. 
We  can  see  it  in  the  billows,  as  with  grand  majestic  roar 
They  dissolve  to  spray  and  sea-foam  as  they  dash  against 

the  shore. 
We  can  see  it  in  the  rainbow  with  its  variegated  hue, 
And  we  know  'tis  drops  of  water  that  the  sun  is  shining 

through. 
Not  one  sparkling  drop  of  water,   or    one  tiny  speck   of 

spray 
Vanish  with  the  glorious  rainbow  as  its  hues  fade  swift 

away. 


21 

They  may  rest  within  the  ocean,  they  may  ripple  with 

the  rill, 
Or  with  mighty  clouds  in  motion  they  may  dash  against 

the  hill, 
But  they'll  never  lose  their  power  or  their  influence  on 

the  whole, 
While  remains  one  spark  of  matter  that  may  blossom  into 

soul. 
We  may  find  it  on  the  mountains  rising  high  above  the 

plain, 
Looking  down  on  grassy  meadows  and  the  fields  of  wav- 
ing grain. 
Looking  down  upon  the  reapers  as  they  toil  in  fields  below, 
Seeing  largest  share  is  garnered  by  the  ones  who  never 

sow. 
We  can  find  it  in  an  island  resting  in  the  deep  blue  sea, 
Watching  life  that  swarms  around  us,  call  it  fate  or  destiny. 
If  we  gaze  into  the  ocean  with  a  scientific  eye, 
We  find  fry  is  food  for  big  fish,  and  fry  feeds  on  lesser  fry. 
So  we  find  the  wide  world  over,  there's  for  each  a  constant 

strife ; 
It  matters  not,   then,  fish  or  human,  all  evolve  to  higher 

life. 

THE  DAWN  OF  TRUTH. 

nrjHE  dawn  of  truth,  it  comes  to  cheer 
X       The  weary  traveler  of  earth's  sphere; 
It  shows  what  we  were  taught  in  youth. 
Was  not  the  highest  light  of  truth, 
In  taking  brothers'  blood  in  vain, 
On  Juda's  hills  or  Moab's  plain. 
That  wrath  of  Him  who  rules  above 
Might  be  appeased  and  turned  to  love. 
For  His  children  who  had  wicked  been 
Were  cast  in  burning  hell  for  sin 
And  He  looks  down  with  approving  smile 


22 


On  the  dismal  smoke  of  the  writhing  pile. 

And  says  "Ha,  ha,  now  take  your  pay, 

I've  told  you  yours  was  not  the  way", 

Those  fatted  calves  and  bullocks  all, 

With  turtle  doves  and  lambs  so  small, 

Which  to  me  should  have  been  given 

An  offering  sweet  sent  up  to  heaven. 

That  you  might  live,  both  you  and  yours 

In  my  heaven  blessed  overtures. 

Of  mercy  that  I  see  fit  to  send 

Upon  all  those  who  with  me  do  lend 

Their  life,  their  strength,  their  wealth,  their  all, 

And  with  sacrifice  for  mercy  call; 

But  yours  to  idols  have  been  given, 

And  not  one  smell  has  come  to  heaven. 

Therefore  I've  sent  you  to  your  doom. 

And  for  your  like  there's  plenty  room 

To  writhe  and  wringe  and  squirm  and  cry. 

And  try  in  vain  to  get  out  or  die. 

But  everlasting  you  there  must  stay 

And  writhe  and  wringe  in  that  same  old  way, 

For  you  have  sinned  against  me  sore. 

And  now  in  hell  forevermore 

Must  suffer  all  the  plagues  therein, 

Because  you  were  not  saved  from  sin. 

But  I  have  wandered  for,  forsooth, 

I  thought  I'd  write  on  dawn  of  truth, 

For  truth  has  come,  and  come  to  stay. 

It  shows  to  us  a  better  way. 

That  God  is  love,  and  loves  us  so, 

That  good  from  him  does  ever  flow; 

He  does  not  think,  connive  or  plan. 

To  punish  poor  deluded  man; 

But  ever  flowing  from  above 

Is  his  eternal  glorious  love. 

As  loving  parents  guard  their  young. 

So  God  will  keep  us  every  one; 


I 


23 


The  light  of  truth  does  so  illumine, 
For  aught  but  goodness  there  is  no  room. 
If  you've  this  glorious  light  within 
You'll  have  no  thought  or  wish  to  sin. 
The  light  of  truth  does  show  the  way 
So  plain  you  need  not  go  astray, 
But  follow  onward  in  the  light, 
And  faith  is  lost  in  perfect  sight; 
Then  love  the  truth,  Oh,  love  it  well, 
It  makes  you  lose  the  fear  of  hell, 
With  eye  of  sight  to  look  above 
To  that  land  of  rest  where  all  is  love. 

A  DAY  DREAM. 

M  resting  on  the  bank  of  a  river, 

And  gazing  far  out  o'er  the  stream, 

And  I  see  the  barques  glide  by  me  ever; 

I'm  enchanted  like  one  in  a  dream. 

And  I  hear  the  sweet  voices  blending 

With  the  music  that's  born  on  the  breeze 

And  I  hear  the  pure  cadence  ascending 
From  river,  and  leaflet  and  trees. 

And  with  rapture  I  join  in  the  chorus 

Hallelujah  again  and  again, 
As  the  veil  from  our  eyes  lifts  before  us, 

Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!  Amen. 

And  now  I  began  to  look  around  me 
And  behold  with  great  joy  and  delight 

That  m}^  loved  ones  from  earth  are  around  me 
Robed  in  garments  as  pure  as  the  light. 

And  I  behold  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure 
That  I,  too,  have  a  robe  bright  and  new, 

And  I  ask  them  who  took  my  measure 
That  this  robe  should  fit  me  so  true. 


@ 


24 

And  a  kind  angel  friend  floats  beside  me, 
And  my  eyes  open  wide  to  behold 

From  her  hands  she  was  weaving  a  fabric 
Bespangled  with  jewels  and  gold. 

And  I  hear  her  sweet  voice  gently  saying: 
"Wonder  not  at  thy  garments  so  true; 

For  while  you  were  toiling  for  others, 
An  angel  was  weaving  for  you." 

BUILDING. 

OME  let  us  rest  a  little  while. 

And  talk  of  days  gone  by, 
How  little  things  would  make  us  smile, 

And  also  make  us  cry. 

Castles  we'd  build  to  lofty  height 

When  we  become  of  age, 
Man}"  the  books  that  we  would  write, 

Gilded  should  be  each  page. 

Alas!  the  castles — on  the  ground 

In  crumbled  heaps  they  lie, 
The  books  have  never  yet  been  bound, 

They  may  be  by  and  by. 

And  yet  it  was  not  all  in  vain, 

Those  castles  in  the  air. 
They  gave  employment  to  the  brain. 

And  stamped  their  image  there. 

And  the'  it  may  not  be  the  same, 

We're  building  every  day, 
It  may  be  fancies  of  the  brain. 

It  may  be  mounds  of  clay. 

Or  it  may  be  of  granite  fine, 

And  temples  we  shall  raise, 
And  they  may  stand  as  long  as  time, 

In  memory  of  our  days. 


B 


25 


We  cannot  tell,  God  only  knows, 

Time  tries  the  works  of  men; 
Some,  like  the  spark  that  upward  goes, 

Return  to  earth  again. 

Some  works  appear  to  be  illumined 

As  if  by  holy  fire; 
When  hands  that  made  are  in  the  tomb, 

They  still  keep  rising  higher 

Some  start  out  with  brilliant  light, 

To  cheer  us  on  our  way, 
But  going  far  above  their  height. 

Soon  fall  on  earth  to  stay. 

Some  start  out  upon  their  track. 

But  change  as  breeze  doth  blow; 
We'll  watch  their  barque,  't  will  soon  be  back. 

They  know  not  where  to  go. 

Some  works  will  stand  when  others  fall, 

And  some  ne'er  stand  alone; 
The  most  essential  part  of  all 

Is  the  foundation  stone. 

So  when  you're  building  for  your  flock, 

In  any  clime  or  land, 
Be  sure  you're  building  on  a  rock. 

And  not  on  drifting  sand. 

REFLECTIONS. 

E  not  discouraged  if  you  fail 

In  your  endeavor  to  do  right; 
Guard  well  your  thoughts,  right  will  prevail. 

Though  you  may  pass  through  darkest  night. 

In  any  land  beneath  the  sun, 

There's  none  that's  perfect — no,  not  one. 
For  all  at  times  have  gone  astray; 

All  can  reform — commence  to-day. 


w 


26 


Then  sigh  no  more  for  days  that  are  gone, 

For  life  is  like  a  river; 
Resistless  currents  bear  us  on, 

A  point  once  passed  is  passed  forever. 

Oh,  when  will  men  learn  how  to  row, 
And  face  the  bow  the  way  we  go, 

Instead  of  looking  backwards; 
We  can  the  better  steer  our  boat, 
Avoid  the  shoals,  keep  her  afloat. 

If  we  are  looking  forwards. 

Sometimes  'tis  well  to  backward  look, 
To  see  the  source  from  whence  we  came, 

Like  the  reviewing  of  a  book, 

That  we  may  more  of  knowledge  gain. 

But  looking  back  through  doubts  and  fears, 
And  vain  regrets  and  scalding  tears. 

It  but  obscures  our  path  to-day, 
And  thus  retards  us  on  our  way. 


SONG. 

E  should  never  grief  for  friends 
Who  have  passed  death's  portal. 

They  are  where  love  never  ends. 
They  are  souls  immortal. 

They  have  scaled  the  lofty  heights. 
Far  above  earth's  pleasure; 

They  are  viewing  glorious  sights — 
Glories  without  measure. 


27 


Loving  angels  hear  our  pray'r, 

Give  us  bliss  eternal, 
Help  us  lay  aside  earth's  care, 

Live  for  joys  supernal. 

See,  the  da}^  is  almost  here. 
Night  fast  disappearing; 

Soon  our  vision  will  be  clear. 
See  the  light  is  nearing. 

See  the  glorious  light  of  day 
O'er  the  hilltops  dawning. 

Soon  'twill  drive  the  night  away, 
Oh!  behold  the  morning. 

Mortal  tongue  can  never  tell 

All  the  joys  of  heaven; 
Those  who  love  their  brothers  well 

Heavenly  joys  are  given. 

Loving  friends,  no  longer  grieve, 
Drive  away  earth's  sorrow; 

Soon  we'll  garner  in  the  sheaves, 
It  may  be  to-morrow. 

Loving  angels  are  the  ones 
Who  will  soon  come  for  you; 

Earthly  work  to-day  is  done, 
Heaven  begins  to-morrow. 

Dearest  loved  ones  hear  our  pray'r, 
Guide  us  through  temptation ; 

Help  us  other's  burdens  bear 
Onward  to  salvation. 

Hear,  oh!  hear  us  when  we  pray, 

Banish  all  our  sorrow; 
Heavenly  life  begins  to-day, 

Wait  not  for  the  morrow. 


I 


28 

A  FEW  QUESTIONS. 

F  we  were  called  to  die  to-night, 

What  would  our  future  be? 
Would  we  be  met  by  angels  bright, 

And  would  we  welcome  be? 

And  would  we  hail  them  with  delight, 

With  smile  upon  our  face? 
Or  would  we  wish  to  hide  from  sight 

Because  of  our  disgrace? 

Or  will  we  be  forever  lost 

In  depth  of  dark  despair? 
Will  we  be  pointed  to  the  cross 

Of  self-denial  there? 

Can  we  no  pleasure  take  below, 

Or  even  give  a  smile, 
For  fear  that  we  will  have  to  go 

Where  all  is  coarse  and  vile? 

Must  we  on  humble  crumbs  be  fed, 
While  here  we  stay  on  earth, 

That  we  may  price  the  heavenly  bread 
And  realize  its  worth? 

Will  we  be  lost  for  what  we've  done, 

Or  what  we  did  not  do. 
Because  of  sins  we  did  not  shun. 

Or  were  good  deeds  too  few? 

Will  those  who  delve  for  earthly  gain 
And  take  no  thought  of  heaven. 

Will  they  in  future  writhe  in  pain 
And  never  be  forgiven? 

Do  we  not  suffer  here  below 
For  all  we  do  that's  wrong? 

'Tis  kindly  deeds,  not  empty  show. 
That  tells  where  we  belong. 


29 
SEARCH  FOR  TRUTH. 

Cj^EEDING  on  the  husks  of  ages 
JP      Of  the  corn  our  parents  ate, 
Searching  in  the  musty  pages 
For  the  wisdom  of  the  great. 

Digging  in  the  tombs  of  Egypt 
For  the  wisdom  buried  there; 

Brush  the  dust  from  off  your  forehead, 
And  the  cobw^ebs  from  your  hair. 

Better  hunt  on  Ararat's  mountain 
For  Noah's  boat  that's  lost  so  long, 

Think  she'll  ride  the  raging  billows 
If  her  timbers  are  most  gone. 

Or  we'll  search  for  tower  of  Babel, 
And  complete  it  to  the  sky; 

There  we'll  rest  ourselves  upon  it, 
Catch  the  truth  as  it  goes  by. 

Or  we'll  go  to  alpine  mountains 

With  the  Monks  that  chant  their  lays, 

Hunting  there  for  wisdom's  fountain 
Used  in  darkest  kind  of  days. 

Or  we'll  hunt  an  ancient  ant  hill 

For  the  busy  little  ant, 
And  when  we  at  last  have  found  him. 

Swear  he  is  an  eleph-ant. 

Or  shall  we  search  the  raging  billows 
For  the  whale  where  Jonah  stayed? 

Or  shall  we  search  for  the  lost  pillars 
Of  the  ark  that  Moses  made  ? 

Or  shall  we  cease  our  weary  searching. 
And  give  the  chase  up  in  despair  ? 

Or  shall  we  stop  and  look  within  us, 
And  search  for  hidden  treasures  there? 


@ 


30 
MEDITATION. 

H,  for  a  heart  that  will  not  stray, 
But  ever  keep  in  wisdom's  way. 
Oh,  for  a  mind  that  loves  to  soar, 
And  be  with  God  forevermore. 

To  Thee,  Oh  Christ,  we  look  for  aid,   . 
When  Thou  art  near  we're  not  afraid; 
Though  we're  beset  by  every  sin, 
We'll  not  partake  when  Christ's  within. 

This  Christ  of  ours  He  doth  sustain 
When  earthly  helpers  strive  in  vain; 
A  faithful  vigil  He  doth  keep, 
And  gives  the  weary  patient  sleep. 

Our  every  need  he  doth  supply 
If  we  will  lift  our  thoughts  on  high; 
Our  earthly  treasures  do  not  stay. 
They  flame,  they  flicker,  then  away. 

But  heavenly  treasures  brighter  shine 
As  borne  along  on  wings  of  time; 
Why  delve  so  hard  in  earth's  domain 
When  wealth  more  glorious  you  can  gain? 

'Tis  not  by  labor,  art,  or  skill, 
But  just  the  bending  of  the  will; 
Ne'er  falter,  waver  or  decline. 
Dear  Lord,  accept  my  hand  in  Thine. 

Not  only  hand,  but  head  and  heart, 
And  make  me  of  thyself  a  part, 
And  I  will  go  where  Thou  dost  lead. 
Of  earthly  joys  take  little  heed. 

But  ever  onward  look  above. 
Forever  basking  in  thy  love; 
Though  rough  and  stony  be  the  way, 
I  know  it  leads  to  endless  day. 


31 
WHEN  DAY  IS  DONE. 

THE  day  is  doue  and  night  once  more 
Spreads  her  dark  mantle  like  a  pall 
O'er  hill  and  vale  and  sea  and  shore — 
And  darkness  reigns  supreme  o'er  all. 

Who  knows  what  morning  may  bring  forth, 
When  sun's  bright  rays  shall  kiss  the  plain: 

From  east  to  west,  from  south  to  north 
All  nature  wakes  to  life  again. 

Will  we  be  given  strength  to  cope 

With  all  the  duties  of  the  day. 
Or  will  we  lose  our  trust  and  hope 

And  faint  and  fall  beside  the  way? 

Will  we  be  bearers  of  the  truth 
And  shed  our  light  to  all  around, 

Or  shall  we  be  like  one,  forsooth, 

Who  placed  his  talent  in  the  ground? 

When  we  review  our  work  at  night, 

And  think  of  various  things  w^e've  done, 

How  we  commenced  at  early  light 
And  toiled  till  setting  of  the  sun. 

We  often  think:  What  is  the  need 
To  toil  so  hard  for  selfish  greed? 

We  cannot  take  one  cent  away 
To  buy  a  robe  for  judgment  day. 


fe 


LIFE. 

IFE  with  all  its  hopes  and  fears 

And  life  with  all  its  sorrow, 
Is  like  the  passing  of  the  years, 

There's  clouds  to-day,  sunshine  to-morrow. 


32 


It's  all  the  same,  the  years  roll  by, 
They're  filled  with  joy  and  sadness, 

But  we  can  help  them  if  we  try, 
To  change  our  grief  to  gladness. 

Yes,  years  roll  by,  how  soon  they're  gone, 

Like  islands  on  a  river, 
We  gaze  ahead,  then  close  upon, 

And  then  they're  passed  forever. 

Tho'  years  pass  by  and  soon  are  gone, 

Our  deeds  they  live  forever. 
And  other  eyes  will  gaze  upon 

The  works  we  weave  together. 

Some  words  are  vain,  they  but  conceal 

The  inner  feelings  of  the  heart, 
The  life  alone  is  what  reveals 

And  shows  the  world  the  man  thou  art. 

How  careful  then  we  all  should  be 

That  thoughts  and  words  and  deeds  are  right; 
There's  nothing  hidden;  all  can  see, 

There's  nothing  lost,  tho'  out  of  sight. 

PRAYER. 

fRAYKR  lifts  the  veil  that  we  may  see 
Light  that  was  hidden  from  our  view; 
Opens  the  books  of  mystery. 

And  help  us  choose  the  good  and  true. 

Prayer  rolls  the  stone  of  grief  away, 

And  bids  us  wipe  away  our  tears; 
It  points  to  dawn  of  brighter  day. 

And  drives  away  all  anxious  fears. 


33 


We  need  not  pray  to  change  God's  laws, 
For  they  will  ever,  ever  stand. 

There's  no  eflfect  without  a  cause, 
Is  true  on  sea  as  well  as  land. 

The  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars  all  show 
That  law  doth  govern  each  and  all; 

If  one  should  from  its  orbit  go. 
Chaotic  ruin  would  end  them  all. 

Think  not  that  prayer  will  set  aside. 
Or  change  the  least  one  of  God's  plan, 

Control  the  winds,  or  change  the  tide. 
Or  number  all  the  grains  of  sand. 

But  prayer  will  give  new  thoughts  to  us. 

New  motive  and  a  new  desire; 
In  place  of  doubt  gives  hope  and  trust. 

Our  very  soul  it  doth  inspire. 
We  know  w^e're  better  when  we  pray. 

It  lifts  the  scales  off  our  eyes ; 
It  rolls  the  clouds  of  doubt  away, 

And  bids  our  star  of  hope  arise. 

CONTENTMENT. 

"^7  OU  should  not  murmur  nor  complain 
J^     If  life  does  not  run  smooth. 
Our  earthly  loss  is  heaven's  gain; 
All  things  in  order  move 

'Tis  not  by  chance  that  things  were  made, 

Nor  did  they  happen  so; 
From  tallest  oak  to  grassy  blade 

'Tis  God  that  makes  them  grow. 
He  gave  to  each  the  spark  of  life, 

And  power  to  reproduce; 
There's  nothing  in  this  world  of  strife 

That  does  not  have  its  use. 


34 


The  worm  that  crawls,  the  weeds  that  grow, 

All  have  their  work  to  do, 
Though  you  may  not  their  mission  know. 

It  may  be  hid  from  you. 

But  God  it  was  who  made  them  all, 

They  grow  at  His  command; 
There's  not  a  thing  on  earth's  green  ball 

He  does  not  understand. 

No  evil  purpose  then  had  He 

When  He  the  serpents  made, 
They  have  their  mission,  so  have  we, 

You  need  not  be  afraid. 

Though  poisonous  fangs  may  pierce  your  heart 

And  it  shall  beat  no  more. 
It  cannot  hurt  the  spirit  part, 

'Tis  brighter  than  before. 

Fear  not  the  things  that  God  has  made. 

They're  part  of  His  great  plan; 
The  morning  light,  the  evening  shade. 

All  are  for  use  of  man. 

To  loved  ones  who  are  left  behind. 

Think  not  the  dear  ones  lost, 
In  yonder  realm  you'll  surely  find 

The  soul  without  the  dross. 

Then  thanks  to  Him  who  all  things  made, 

No  matter  what  they  be. 
The  day  for  light,  the  night  for  shade, 

The  valleys,  hills  and  sea. 

And  all  that  in  them  live  and  move, 

And  have  a  spark  of  life, 
They  were  created  by  His  love. 

And  not  by  strange  device. 


I 


35 


Then  murmur  not  nor  yet  complain 
Of  aught  that's  in  this  realm, 

There's  nothing  made  that's  made  in  vain, 
Our  Father's  at  the  helm. 


QOD*S   LOVE. 

LOVE  to  sit  in  pensive  mood, 

And  think  of  God  and  all  that's  good, 
Of  the  great  love  He  does  display. 
From  morn  till  night  from  day  to  day. 

His  love  is  the  life  giving  power, 
'Tis  shown  to  us  each  day,  each  hour, 
The  birds  all  sing  and  chant  His  praise, 
All  nature's  filled  with  melodies. 
His  love  doth  cause  all  things  to  grow, 
From  creeping  worm  to  bounding  doe, 
His  love  maintains  and  comforts  all, 
The  rich,  the  poor,  the  great,  the  small. 

All  look  to  God,  the  fountain  head, 
Who  gives  to  each  his  daily  bread. 
The  air  we  breathe,  the  clothes  we  wear, 
All  show  our  Father's  loving  care. 
His  loving  care  surrounds  us  all. 
He  even  notes  the  sparrow's  fall, 
He  loves  us  all,  both  you  and  me, 
And  all  that  are,  and  are  to  be. 
His  love  can  make  discordant  cries 
Resound  like  music  in  the  skies. 
Go  on,  O  Earth,  with  deafening  din, 
I  fear  you  not.  when  Christ's  within. 

Then  learn,  oh  mortals  of  this  earth. 
That  love  is  the  great  law  of  God, 
That  spoke  the  planets  into  birth 
And  scattered  light  o'er  all  abroad. 


fe 


36 
LOVE   DIVINE. 

ET  no  harm  come  near  our  dwelling, 

Safe  we  rest,  dear  Lord,  in  Thee, 
Ever  in  our  hearts  is  welling 

That  sweet  love  that  makes  us  free. 
Better  far  than  earthly  treasure, 

Brighter  far  than  drops  of  gold, 
Love  Thou  sendest  without  measure, 

Love  no  tongue  has  ever  told. 

Yes  His  love  is  like  the  spring  time. 

Driving  winter's  cold  away. 
Like  the  glorious  morning  sunshine, 

Turning  darkness  into  day. 
Yes,  His  love  is  like  a  river, 

Ever  flowing  to'ard  the  sea; 
Onward  flowing,  flowing  ever. 

Ever  through  Eternity. 

Yes,  His  love  is  like  the  mountain, 

With  its  peak  a  towering  high. 
At  its  base  you'll  find  the  fountain. 

Always  giving,  never  dry, 
Oh  His  love  is  never  ceasing. 

Like  the  rivers  onward  flow. 
Ever  onward,  still  increasing 

As  adown  the  stream  you  go. 

When  we  reach  the  mighty  ocean. 

Though  our  barque  be  light  and  frail, 
And  around  us  is  commotion, 

Safe  we'll  ride  the  stormy  gale, 
And  we'll  reach  the  peaceful  harbor. 

Where  the  weary  all  can  rest, 
Rest  from  care  and  ceaseless  labor, 

Rest  with  all,  forever  blest. 


w 


37 

DESIRE  TO  HELP  OTHERS. 

AD  I  the  power  I'd  like  to  write 

Thoughts  to  illumine  the  darkest  night, 
And  help  the  weak  ones  on  their  way, 
As  guide,  who  never  leads  astray; 
Words  that  would  comfort  in  distress. 
Give  peace  within  each  aching  breast 
And  soothe  the  anxious  brow  of  care 
And  place  the  light  of  courage  there. 

To  make  the  faltering  step  grow  strong 
And  fill  the  heart  with  sweeter  song; 
To  show  to  all  that  there  is  hope — 
They  need  no  more  in  darkness  grope. 
But  grow  in  knowledge  and  the  truth, 
O'ercome  the  doubtful  thoughts  of  youth 
And  join  the  fast  increasing  throng 
With  steadfast  faith  who  march  along. 

For  light  has  come  from  o'er  the  way; 
Where  once  was  darkness,  all  is  day; 
Where  silence  once  did  reign  supreme, 
We  see  the  light  of  angels  gleam. 
And  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before, 
Have  bridged  the  gulf  from  shore  to  shore; 
They  come  to  us  on  wings  of  love 
And  bring  the  truth  from  realms  above. 

They  tell  of  life  in  higher  spheres. 
Beyond  this  vale  of  doubts  and  fears, 
Where  no  dark  thoughts  oppress  the  soul ; 
For  God  is  Love,  and  doth  control 
All  things  that  are,  by  perfect  laws — 
For  love  is  Life  and  the  First  Cause, 
That  set  all  things  in  active  motion, 
From  smallest  rill  to  mighty  ocean. 


38 


SONG. 


WE  ask  of  Thee,  O  Holy  One, 
That  Thou  wilt  now  in  mercy  come, 
And  lift  our  thoughts  to  things  above, 
O,  fill  our  souls  with  perfect  love. 

Chorus. — 
O  God  of  love  come  and  preside, 
And  ever  in  our  souls  abide, 
Help  us  respond  to  needs  of  men, 
And  may  we  see  Thyself  in  them. 
Help  us  to  live  for  things  divine, 
O,  may  our  souls  commune  with  Thine. 
We  ask,  O  God  of  light  and  peace, 
For  lasting  joys  that  never  cease. 
For  wisdom  from  Thy  bounteous  store 
That  we  may  dwell  in  doubt  no  more. 

O,  send  the  angels  from  above 
And  light  our  way  with  truth  and  love, 
And  may  they  ever  hover  near, 
Illumine  our  path  with  hope  and  cheer. 

And  when  we  reach  the  river's  side, 
And  death's  cold  stream  before  us  glide, 
O  safely  guide  our  frail  barque  o'er, 
And  give  us  life  in  heaven's  bright  shore. 

And  may  we  never  once  forget 
So  long  as  sun  shall  rise  and  set. 
That  we  were  of  an  humble  birth, 
That  we  once  dwelt  upon  the  earth. 

We  thank  Thee  for  the  light  of  day. 
And  may  we  never  from  it  stray  ; 
O  may  we  feel  Thy  love  divine, 
And  may  all  hearts  be  tuned  to  Thine. 


© 


39 


Spirit  of  Good  we  now  implore 
That  Thou  wilt  bless  us  evermore, 
O,  may  Thy  waves  of  glory  roll, 
Illumine  each  mind  and  fill  each  soul. 

And  when  this  earthly  life  is  o'er, 

And  we  have  reached  that  heavenly  shore, 

O,  may  the  crowns  of  Glory  then 

Rest  on  each  brow,  for  aye.  Amen. 

BEAUTIES  OF  NATURE. 

THE  beautious  things  in  nature; 
One  cannot  see  them  all, 
Much  less  to  write  about  them 

And  their  wondrous  charms  recall. 

There  is  beauty  in  the  mountain 
And  the  broad  and  fertile  plain, 

It  sparkles  in  the  fountain 
And  smiles  in  waving  grain. 

'Tis  seen  within  the  rainbow 

And  we  marvel  at  the  power 
That  reveals  such  wondrous  beauty 

In  the  passing  of  a  shower. 
We  may  see  it  in  the  daisies 

As  they  point  up  to  the  sky. 
And  they  seem  to  wish  to  tell  us 

Of  a  fairer  home  on  high. 
We  can  see  it  in  the  roses 

With  their  variegated  hues, 
When  they  sparkle  like  the  diamond 

In  the  sunlight  and  the  dews. 
We  can  see  it  in  the  ocean, 

As  its  billows  lash  the  shore 
And    recede   in  scattered  fragments 

To  reform  and  break  once  more., 


40 


We  can  see  it  in  the  winding 

Of  the  swiftly  flowing  rill, 
As  it  finds  its  way  to  ocean, 

From  the  height  of  yonder  hill. 
We  can  see  it  in  the  sunbeams 

From  the  glorious  orb  of  day, 
As  it  soars  above  the  mountains, 

Ever  driving  night  away. 
We  can  see  it  in  all  nature. 

And  throughout  the  realms  of  space, 
But  the  crowning  work  of  beauty 

Is  the  human  form  and  face. 


@ 


ONLY  A  CHILD. 

NLY  a  child  !"  the  sexton  said, 

As  he  laid  its  form  to  rest ; 
And  yet,  and  yet — a  mother's  heart 

Was  breaking  in  her  breast. 

That  little  form,  so  cold  and  still. 

Those  eyes,  forever  closed. 
The  heart  that  once  with  love  did  thrill, 

Now  wrapped  in  death's  repose. 
We  know  'twas  but  a  little  thing, 

But  hopes  lie  buried  there, 
Ah,  who  can  joy  and  comfort  bring 

To  hearts  in  deep  despair  ? 

Rest  on,  dear  one,  you've  scaled  the  heights, 
Where  death  will  come  no  more, 

To  bask  for  aye  in  heavenly  light 
More  lovely  than  before. 

O,  parents  dear,  let  tears  be  dried. 

Grieve  not  for  loved  ones  gone, 
'Tis  but  the  dust  that's  laid  aside. 

The  soul  is  marching  on. 


M 


41 

HOLY  ANGELS. 

OLY    angels  from  above, 

Come  and  fill  our  souls  with  love ; 
Come  and  bless  us  here  to-day, 
Lead  us  in  the  heavenly  way. 
Help  us  help  each  other  on, 
Till  the  glorious  light  of  dawn 
Shall  displace  the  doubts  of  youth, 
For  the  glorious  light  of  truth. 

Chorus. — 
Bid  the  tempter's  voice  be  still. 
We  will  do  the  higher  will  ; 
If  we  work  for  right  alone, 
Bright  will  be  our  future  home. 

Oh,  illumine  our  path  with  light. 
And  dispel  this  gloom  of  night ; 
Strengthen  our  declining  years, 
Lead  us  thro'  this  vale  of  tears  ; 
Give  us  hope  and  joy  and  love 
From  thy  bounteous  home  above; 
Leave  us  not  alone  we  pray; 
Guide  us  on  to  perfect  day. 

Bid  all  doubts  and  fears  depart 
From  each  trembling  waiting  heart; 
Give  us  strength  from  heaven  above; 
Fill  our  souls  with  perfect  love: 
Give  us  light  and  love  and  peace, 
Bid  our  doubts  and  fears  to  cease; 
Guide  us  to  the  heavenly  shore, 
When  this  earthly  life  is  o'er. 

We  would  ask  for  wisdom  new. 
As  our  journey  we  pursue  ; 
Give,  Oh,  give  as  truth  divine, 
That  will  stand  the  storms  of  time; 


I 


42 


Ever  feed  us  day  by  day, 

As  we  journey  on  our  way, 

Bread  of  life  from  heavenly  shore, 

And  we'll  hunger  never  more. 
Chorus. — 
Now  we  see  an  angel  band, 
As  in  spirit  home  they  stand. 
Beckoning  us  to  leave  earth's  shore. 
And  like  them  be  wafted  o'er. 

THE  GOD  OF  NATURE. 

LOVE  to  sit  in  the  shady  nook, 
And  learn  of  God,  from  nature's  book. 
The  flowers,  the  trees,  and  rippling  rill, 
All  show  His  handiwork  and  skill. 

This  God  of  ours,  He  rules  the  seas, 
The  birds,  the  beasts,  the  humming  bees, 
There's  nothing,  either  great  or  small. 
But  that  He  made,  and  governs  all. 

All  are  the  efforts  of  His  will, 
He  made,  He  makes.  He  ruleth  still. 
The  angry  seas  His  voice  obey. 
And  darkest  night  gives  place  to  day. 

The  mountains  shake  in  awful  fear. 
When  they  behold  His  presence  near. 
There  is  no  power,  in  sea  or  hill, 
That  can  resist  His  silent  will. 

The  lightning  flash,  the  thunders  roar, 
The  billows  breaking  on  the  shore. 
Each  one  His  labor  must  fulfill. 
All  must  obey  the  Master's  will. 

E'en  man  brought  up  in  wisdom's  ways 
Cannot  prolong  his  length  of  days. 
The  Master  calls,  he  must  obey, 
The  spirit  leaves  its  home  of  clay. 


43 

TIME. 

©TIME,  who  brought  Thee  into  existence  ? 
Who  nursed  Thee  when  Thou  wert  young  ? 
Who  fondled  Thee  in  their  arms 
And  called  Thee  by  endearing  names  ? 
And  in  what  cradle  did'st  Thou  repose  ? 
Why  didst  Thou  ever  come  at  all  ? 
Thou  makest  all  things  wither  and  decay. 
Nations  arise  and  fall,  but  Thou  art  the  same  today  as 
Is  there  no  change  for  Thee  ?  [yesterday. 

Did  Thine  eyes  e'er  sparkle  with  youth  ? 
And  didst  fierce  fires  e'er  burn  within  Thy  brain? 
Wert  Thou  fair  to  look  upon  when  young  ? 
And  who  was  there  to  admire  Thee  ? 
Will  Thy  beauty  e'er  wither  and  decay  ? 
Who  will  do  for  Thee  what  Thou  doest  for  all  things 
That  exist,  both  animate  and  inanimate  ? 
Doth  to-morrow  bring  any  change  for  Thee  ? 
Wilt  Thou  be  weighed  in  the  balance 
And  wilt  Thou  be  found  wanting  ? 
Why  is  Thy  life  different  from  the  life  of  man  ? 
Thou  measurest  out  his  existence  unto  him  ; 
Who  measures  unto  Thee  ? 
What  hath  eternity  in  store  for  Thee  ? 
Wilt  Thou   be   punished   for   making  youth  wither  and 

decay  ? 
Thou  paintest  the  head  of  man  with  the  frosts  of  winter 
And  Thou  laughest  at  Thy  folly. 
Art  Thou  yet  a  child  ? 
When  wilt  Thou  arrive  at  stability  ? 
All  the  past  is  Thine,  also  the  present: 
What  of  the  future  ?    Who  shapes  Thy  destiny  ? 
Who  will  pronounce  sentence  upon  Thee  ? 
And  what  will  be  Thy  fate  ? 
What  doest  Thou  give  to  the  aged 
In  exchange  for  youth  and  beauty  ? 


Doth  silvered  hair  and  wrinkled  brow 

Compensate  for  what  Thou  hast  taken  from  them? 

Is  aching  bone  and  palsied  limb  the  recompense  ? 

Is  sluggish  blood  and  dimmed  vision 

To  be  compared  to  the  sight  and  activities  of  youth  ? 

What  hast  Thou  in  store  for  the  aged  ? — 

And  when  will  they  receive  their  reward  ? 

Wilt  Thou  be  a  silent  witness? 

Or  wilt  Thou  bear  witness  against  us  ? 

Or  wilt  Thou  have  mercy  upon  us  ? 

Answer  of  Timb. 
Child  of  Earth,  who  art  Thou 
That  seekest  to  know  the  mysteries  of  the  unknown  and 

unknowable  ? 
Some  things   can   be   understood   and  comprehended  by 

mortal  man, 
Others  are  beyond  his  grasp  and  always  will  be. 
Time  and  God  are  one. 
Did  God  make  Time,  or  Time  make  God  ? 
If  God   made   Time,  what   was   there   before   Time  was 

made? 
If  Time  made  God,  who  was  the  maker  of  Time  ? 
Both  always  were  and  always  will  be.      Selah. 
Before  creation  was  begun 
Or  e'er  the  stars  in  glory  sung  ; 
Before  the  glorious  orb  of  day 
Or  e'er  before  the  milky  way, 
We  soared  together,  hand  in  hand, 
And  as  we  soared  we  planned  and  planned ; 
And  what  we  planned  we  willed  to  be, 
And  what  we  willed  now  all  can  see. 
And  what  you  see,  we  loved  it  so 
That  cells  of  love  began  to  grow. 
'Tis  from  love-cells  that  all  things  grew 
And  all  Creation  came  to  view. 
These  cells  of  love  hold  live  and  breath; 
Though  all  things  change,  there  is  no  death. 


45 
TIME  NO.  II. 

TIME  is  the  lighter  of  all  wrongs, 
The  healer  of  all  sorrow  ; 
To-day  we  build  our  mansions  strong, 
Time  tears  them  down  to-morrow. 

Time  heals  the  scars  that  sin  has  made 

And  bids  us  hope  again, 
Lift  up  our  heads,  be  not  afraid. 

Be  Nature's  noblemen. 

Time  will  avenge  the  poor  man's  wrongs 

And  set  the  bondman  free  ; 
It  wields  the  sword  to  sever  thongs 

That  fetter  Hberty. 

Time  is  the  builder  of  all  things. 

Destroyer  of  the  same  ; 
It  shatters  crowns,  dethrones  the  kings 

And  builds  in  Freedom's  name. 

Time  passes  by  on  noiseless  wings, 

In  the  eternal  now; 
She  tarries  not  for  lords  or  kings, 

To  her  alike  all  bow. 

Time  is  attuned  to  her  own  songs, 
She  heeds  not  joy  or  sorrow  ; 

To-day  we  set  our  landmarks  strong, 
Time  bids  us  change  to-morrow. 

Time  marches  on  with  stately  tread, 

'Tis  passing  evermore  ; 
She  counts  the  living  and  the  dead 

As  sands  upon  the  shore. 

Time's  gentle  touch  may  not  be  felt. 

So  silently  'tis  given, 
Yet  causes  firmaments  to  melt 

And  makes  of  Earth  a  heaven. 


46 


Time  tries  the  works  of  all  mankind  ; 

Abundant  grace  is  shown 
To  test  the  workmanship,  to  find 

If  each  will  stand  alone. 

Time's  finger  has  the  touch  of  life, 

It  also  has  of  death; 
It  gives  us  strength  for  daily  strife, 

It  bears  away  our  breath. 
The  frosted  head,  the  wrinkled  brow. 

All  show  the  time  is  near 
When  we  will  at  her  mandate  bow 

And  leave  this  lower  sphere. 
Time  works  for  all,  we  heed  it  not, 

The  moments  flee  away  ; 
Now  is  our  time,  Earth  is  the  spot — 

Build  for  eternity. 

SOWING. 

IN  the  Springtime  of  life  we  are  scattering  the  seed, 
Perchance  it  may  fall  by  the  way. 
And  is  trampeled  upon  by  some  in  their  greed. 
And  its  life  soon  passeth  away. 

Or  perchance  it  may  fall  in  rich  mellow  ground. 

And  be  given  protection  and  care; 
But  when  we  are  at  rest  in  slumber  profound. 

Some  may  reseed  with  thistle  and  tare. 

Some  seed  may  alight  in  warm,  stony  ground. 
And  come  forth  at  the  first  break  of  day; 

But  there's  not  enough  soil  for  its  roots  to  be  found, 
And  at  noon-time  it  withers  away. 

Some  fell  among  thorns,  and  by  them  was  o'ercome, 
And  their  life  was  doomed  to  decay, 

And  the  harvesters'  song  in  that  field  was  not  sung. 
For  the  reapers  passed  by  on  their  way. 


1 


47 

But  some  seed  took  root  in  nice  mellow  ground, 

Where  no  enemy  came  to  molest; 
Ten,  fifty,  a  hundred  to  one  it  was  found, 

And  the  reapers  were  abundantly  blessed. 

Then  stay  not  thy  hand  in  sowing  the  seed, 

Lest  some  should  fall  by  the  way, 
And  the  fowls  of  the  air  in  supplying  their  need, 

Leave  naught  for  the  reapers  to  pay. 

Select  ye  good  seed,  sow  none  but  the  best ; 

We  surely  shall  reap  as  we  sow. 
Perchance  that  the  seeds  by  the  angels  be  blessed. 

We  may  reap  them  wherever  we  go. 

Then  scatter  good  seed  to  the  right  and  the  left, 
Yes,  sow  them  broadcast  everywhere  ; 

They  are  sure  to  alight  because  of  their  heft. 
While  the  chaff  floats  away  in  the  air. 

Apollos  moistens  the  soil,  Paul  soweth   the   seeds, 
God  blesseth  the  germs  that  they  grow. 

If  we  do  our  share  and  suppress  all  the  weeds. 
Our  heaven  will  begin  here  below.   . 

J- 
ENVIRONMENT. 

H    who  shall  say  at  birth  of  soul 

That  life  was  all  in  vain. 
Because  we  had  not  full  control 

Of  self  upon  this  plane  ? 

Do  all  the  trees  on  yonder  hill 

Erect  in  stature  tower  ? 
Are  not  some  bent  against  their  will 

By  storms  o'erwhelming  power? 

Who  blames  the  trees  because  they're  bent 

And  are  not  straight  and  tall  ? 
If  storms  had  not  their  moisture  sent 

There 'd  be  no  trees  at  all. 


48 


Do  not  the  streams  and  rivers  glide 

In  channels  to  the  sea  ? 
Are  they  not  changed  from  side  to  side 

By  law  of  gravity  ? 

Have  we  the  power  to  stem  the  tide 
And  weather  all  the  blasts  ? 

Are  there  no  pools  in  which  we  glide, 
Where  currents  hold  us  fast  ? 

Are  there  no  falls  that  bear  us  o'er 
To  depths  we  would  not  go, 

And  lead  us  from  the  peaceful  shore 
To  misery  and  woe  ? 

We  must  o'ercome  each  chilling  blast 

And  conquer  every  sin. 
Arise  from  out  the  gloomy  past, 

New,  life  to-day  begin. 

If  our  environments  mold  us 

And  make  us  what  we  are, 
And  God  made  man  from  out  the  dust 

And  stamped  His  image  there; — 

Like  molder  of  the  plastic  clay — 

One  vessel  made  to  honor, 
Another  formed  a  different  way 

Has  stamp  of  shame  upon  her — 

Then  we  who  are  the  vessels  weak, 

Will  need  a  helping  hand, 
From  those  who  on  the  lofty  peaks 

Have  views  of  promised  land. 

If  we'd  o'ercome  the  trifling  things 

In  life  that  vex  us  so. 
If  we  would  soar  where  angel  sings — 

We  must  arise  and  go. 


49 


And  so  we  find  o'er  all  the  earth 

Great  difference  in  men; 
Some  are  made  rulers  at  their  birth 

And  millions  bow  to  them. 

But  we  must  strive  to  rise  above 

The  things  that  vex  us  so, 
And  ever  lend  a  hand  of  love 

To  those  who  are  below. 

Then  let  us  lift  our  heads  aloft 
And  answer:  "We  are  men!" 

Although  we're  wounded  like  the  moth, 
We  yet  will  soar  again. 

There  are  no  depths  where  we  may  go 
From  which  we  may  not  rise; 

The  winter's  hail,  and  sleet,  and  snow 
Fades  'neath  the  summer  skies. 

Then  do  your  best  in  every  way 

And  live  to  highest  light; 
The  light  of  truth,  like  dawn  of  day. 

Dispels  the  darkest  night. 


WHY  SHOULD  WE  FEAR  DEATH, 

WHY  should  we  fear  the  step  to  take 
That  leads  us  through  the  pearly  gate? 
Why  should  we  dread  to  go  the  road 
That  leads  us  to  our  blest  abode? 

We  know  the  way  seems  dark  and  drear 
And  silent  as  the  falling  tear. 
But  hand  of  Death  we  cannot  stay, 
Nor  drive  the  messenger  away. 

In  grief  our  friends,  with  weeping  eyes. 
View  our  departure  to  the  skies; 


so 


Our  earthly  friends,  they  have  no  power 
To  save  us  in  that  trying  hour. 
They  might  as  well  submissive  be, 
And  let  us  go  right  merrily. 

For  holding  back  it  ne'er  will  save 

The  bravest  king  or  weakest  slave; 

No  better  boon  God  gave  to  men 

Than  that  they  should  be  born  again. 

The  high  and  low,  the  wise  and  great, 

They  all  must  pass  through  Death's  dark  gate, 

A  glorious  change,  a  second  birth: 

To  earth  consign  the  things  of  earth. 

But  let  the  spirit  rise  and  soar 

And  other  realms  and  worlds  explore. 

Ah,  who  on  earth  would  hampered  be 
And  stay  through  all  eternity  ? 
'Tis  but  one  step,  through  darkness  driven, 
We  then  will  see  the  light  of  Heaven. 
We'll  roam  where  loved  ones'  feet  have  trod, 
And  view  the  wondrous  works  of  God. 

All  nature  is  a  sacred  book 
And  spirit  eyes  can  wisely  look 
And  read  the  planets,  one  by  one, 
From  darkest  earth  to  brightest  sun, 
And  there  behold  the  mighty  race 
Of  rolling  orbs  in  endless  space. 
As  all  in  order  move  along 
As  if  attuned  to  heavenly  song. 

The  earth  revolves  around  the  sun. 
The  sun  around  great  Alcyone 
And  Alcyone  moves  on  apace, 
Nor  stops  one  moment  in  the  race. 
But  all  in  order  move  along, 
A  silent  and  majestic  throng, 


51 


Around  some  distant,  unknown  spot, 
The  eye  of  glass  has  found  it  not; 
No  eye  has  seen,  or  foot  has  trod, 
For  'tis  the  central  home  of  God. 

Nor  will  He  e'er  in  future  years 
Divulge  all  secrets  of  the  spheres, 
But  when  the  messenger  shall  come 
And  bear  us  to  our  future  home, 
When  we  have  passed  the  gate  called  Death 
And  have  received  our  second  breath. 
With  joy  we'll  search  the  planets  o'er 
And  works  of  nature  we'll  adore. 

All  show  the  wisdom  and  the  love 

In  things  on  earth  and  heavens  above. 

Fear  not  the  change  so  great  to  thee, 

But  wait  for  it  most  patiently, 

And  do  your  duty  here  on  earth; 

With  joy  you'll  greet  your  second  birth. 


R 


QOOD=BY  TO  1900. 

OLL  up  the  scroll,  its  work  is  done, 

We'll  file  it  safe  away; 
We'll  blow  the  horn  and  beafthe  drum; 

We  muster  out  to-day. 

The  deeds  of  men  for  a  hundred  years 

Are  written  on  this  scroll. 
Some  lines  are  dimmed  by  falling  tears. 

Some  shine  like  burnished  gold. 

Some  deeds  will  be  our  nation's  pride 

For  centuries  to  come, 
And  there  are  some  we  fain  would  hide. 

That  none  might  gaze  upon. 


@ 


52 


FOR  nV  CHILDREN. 

H,  my  dearest!  Oh,  my  darling,  can    I    ever  write 
of  thee! 
Can  you,  will  you,  in  the  future  ever  be  the  same 

to  me? 
God,  we  thank  Thee  for  Thy  goodness  when  you 

placed  her  by  my  side. 
Full  of  love,  and  strength  and  gladness,  she  my 

own  sweet  earthly  bride. 
Many   years   we   lived    together,    happy   in    each 

other's  love, 
But   you're   gone,  I  left  to  wander  till  the  Master 

calls  above. 
Though  you're  gone  I  sometimes  feel  you,  feel  you 

standing  by  my  side, 
And  methinks  you'll  love  me  ever  and  will  be  my 

spirit  bride. 
Hard   we    strove    to    do  our  dut3^  sometimes  weal 

and  sometimes  woe, 
But  we  had  our  share  of  gladness,  times    the  cup 

did  overflow. 
But   the   messenger  did  call  5^ou  and  j'ou  left  me 

here  alone, 
Soon    you'll    meet   me  at  the  river  and  will  guide 

me  to  our  home. 
Life  would  not  be  worth  the  living,  did  not  hope 

lift  up  the  veil. 
And  it  shows  me  I  am  following,  ever  following  on 

the  trail. 
That  will  lead  to  glad  reunion  in  the  bright  and 

glorious  spheres, 
Where  there'll  be  no  pain  or  sorrow,  where  there'll 

be  no  cause  for  tears. 
Yes,  my  dear  one,  I  shall  meet  you  and  will  love 

you  as  of  yore 
And    we'll    nevermore    be  parted,  never,    never, 

nevermore. 


S3 


Oh,  our  children,  Heaven  bless  them,  better 
woman  never  bore, 

May  the  angels  guard  and  lead  them  safe  to  Heav- 
ens' glorious  shore. 

And  their  children,  angels  lead  them,  lead  them 
through  this  world  of  strife, 

Teach  them,  earthly  gains  and  riches  are  not  all 
there  is  of  life. 

Be  ye  good  and  mind  your  parents.  Wealth  of 
wisdom  comes  with  years, 

But  obedience,  love  and  goodness  sometimes  comes 
through  failing  tears. 


WHY  THAT  FROWN? 

WHY  that  frown  upon  3'our  brow? 
See  the  sun  is  shining! 
Hark,  the  birds  are  singing  now, 

Why  so  much  repining? 
Scowls  will  never  make  a  friend — 

Figs  don't  grow  on  thistles, 
Smiles  will  conquer  in  the  end; 
Hurrah  for  the  one  who  whistles. 

Cease  that  dismal  little  whine; 

Come,  now,  wash  the  dishes; 
A  little  labor  you  will  find 

Is  better  far  than  wishes. 
Brush  the  tear-drops  from  your  eyes, 

Help  prepare  the  dinner; 
Take  your  papa  by  surprise; 

Good  victuals  are  a  winner. 

But  I  will  tell  you,  little  child, 
If  you  would  win  pa's  favor. 

Be  like  your  mother,  meek  and  mild; 
Take  pride  in  good  behavior. 


54 

A  FEW  THOUGHTS. 

^ET  Spain  the  twenty  millions  keep, 
Give  millions  more  for  wrongs  we've  done 
And  let  the  balmy  islands  sleep, 
And  safely  rest  in  tropic  sun. 

We  want  them  not;  they're  not  our  clan, 
Though  conquered  they  may  seem  to  be, 

An  alien  race — a  dusky  man — 
Black  spot  on  flag  of  liberty. 

Shall  we  then  let  our  banner  soar. 
With  such  a  spot,  upon  the  breeze? 

No,  pay  the  bills  and  peace  restore, 
And  war  no  more  in  distant  seas. 

We'll  find  enough  to  do  at  home, 
We  need  not  cross  the  rolling  deep. 

Raise  the  oppressed,  bound  down  in  gloom. 
And  give  them  all  a  chance  to  speak. 

Oppression's  here  within  our  land. 
The  fairest  land  beneath  the  sun, 

The  monied  Kings  on  every  hand — 
They  rule  the  day,  the  ballot's  run. 

The  people's  voice  is  seldom  heard — 
So  loudly  speaks  the  monied  clan — 

Though  plainly  spoken,  word  by  word, 
'Tis  lost  by  clink  of  monied  man. 

Enough  we  had,  and  some  to  sell. 
Of  silver  good  as  e'er  was  found, 

'Twas  sinned  against  and  left  to  dwell 
Unminted,  deep  within  the  ground. 

Restore  the  silver  to  its  place, 

And  worship  not  the  yellow  gold; 

The  wrong  we  did  was  a  disgrace, 
The  misery  caused  can  ne'er  be  told. 


55 


Our  land  is  filled  with  tramps  and  trusts, 
The  one  to  walk,  the  other  ride — 

But  trusts  will  go,  for  go  they  must, 
And  right  will  come  on  turn  of  tide. 

Yes,  trust  will  burst  of  their  own  greed, 
They're  not  content  with  greater  share, 

They  want  it  all;  they  must  take  heed, 
Of  labors'  rights  they  must  beware. 

No  more  let  distant  cannon  roar. 

Like  Sinai's  mount  that  shook  the  plain, 

We've  work  enough  right  at  our  door; 
We  need  not  cross  the  surging  main. 

Then  call  a  halt!     We've  whipped  them  sore, 
We've  shown  the  world  what  we  can  do; 

Atone  for  wrongs,  and  peace  restore, 
And  lets'  begin  our  life  anew. 

Make  not  our  starry  emblem  lie — 
For  freedom  does  our  banner  wave 

In  every  land  beneath  the  sky; 
We  will  not  own  or  keep  a  slave. 

Then  sound  the  trumpet  clear  and  loud. 
Let  it  resound  from  main  to  main; 

We'll  fight  no  more  that  dusky  crowd, 
But  ever  will  their  rights  maintain. 

A  special  watch  o'er  them  we'll  keep, 
We'll  ever  guard  them,  night  and  day, 

A  faithful  vigil  while  they  sleep, 

And  see  no  harm  shall  come  their  way. 

Not  guard  them  as  we  would  a  slave, 
For  fear  they'll  try  to  run  away, 

But  guard  them  as  we  would  a  babe — 
A  babe  that's  born  but  yesterday. 


56 

Show  them  'twas  not  for  greed  or  fame 
That  made  us  shoot  and  shoot  to  kill, 

Nor  was  it  in  a  tyrant's  name, 

Nor  yet  to  please  the  people's  will. 

But  that  good  laws  must  be  maintained 
At  home,  on  land,  or  in  the  sea; 

I^ay  down  your  arms,  the  law  sustain  ; 
Hurrah  for  right  and  liberty! 


MOTHERS'    LOVE. 

M^HERE  are  many  we  meet  as  we  journey  through  life, 
_!_       Whose  friendship  grows  stronger,  whose  love  never 

fails, 
But  there's  none  to  compare  with  the  love  of  a  wife. 
Save  that  of  a  mother,  whose  love  never  fails. 

The  mothers,  God  bless  them,  their  love  is  the  same, 
No  matter  how  wayward  the  children  may  be. 

They  stop  not  to  censure  or  even  to  blame, 
Their  love  is  unbounded,  so  full  and  so  free. 

When  they  know  they  are  wanted  they're  sure  to  be 
there, 
They  come  at  our  call  to  relieve  our  distress. 
With  her  hand  on  our  brow  she  drives  away  care 

And  with  sweet  words  of  comfort  she  soothes  us  to 
rest. 

No  matter  what  cause,  or  who  is  to  blame, 

Mothers'  love  seldom  fails  to  cheer  and  to  bless. 

For  us  her  dear  hands  will  work  just  the  same, 
Till  her  fond  loving  heart  is  at  last  laid  to  rest. 

O,  how  we  then  miss  the  friend  tried  and  true, 
Whose  love  was  the  same  by  night  or  by  day, 

Who  did  more  for  us  than  all  others  could  do, 
Who  never  forgot  us  when  we  went  astray. 


w 


57 
THOUGHTS  ON  TRAINING  DAY. 

E  wandered  in  the  fields  to-day 

And  saw  a  pretty  sight; 
We  saw  the  boys  in  mimic  play 

A  training  for  a  fight. 

They  marched  upon  the  fresh  green  sward 

With  weapons  bright  and  new; 
They  marched  and  halted  at  the  word, 

Like  soldiers  good  and  true. 

We  thought  it  was  a  pretty  sight, 

But  some  would  call  it  grand, 
For  boys  to  learn  to  shoot  and  fight 

And  kill  their  fellow  man. 

We  did  not  blame  the  little  boys, 

For  we  once  did  the  same: 
We  marched  and  fought  w^th  guns — not  toys 

And  bled  for  freedom's  name. 

We  broke  the  yoke  of  bondage,  boys, 

And  set  four  millions  free. 
And  saved  the  emblem  of  our  land 

In  all  its  purity. 

And  though  it  was  a  pretty  sight 

To  see  the  boys  at  play, 
My  heart  felt  sad  for  mothers  dear. 

Whose  sons  fight  far  away. 

J' 


a 


THE  RAIN. 

LL  the  sky  is  overcast, 

And  it  rains  and  it  roars. 

And  it  sometimes  fairly  pours; 
And  I  sit  and  look  and  think 
As  I  see  the  parched  earth  drink, 

'Tis  thankful  that  the  rain  has  come  at  last. 


@ 


58 


Hear  it  rain,  hear  it  rain, 
As  it  beats  against  the  pane, 

And  the  torrents  rush  and  roar 
Through  the  meadow  and  the  glen; 
They  will  cease  their  turmoil  when 
The3^  have  reached  their  home  again 

In  the  bosom  of  the  ocean's  vast  domain. 

By  and  by  the  clouds  will  clear 

And  we'll  hail  the  blessed  sunshine  with  delight. 
It  will  give  new  hope  and  cheer, 
And  its  rajT-s  will  shine  more  clear 

For  being  for  a  little  hid  from  sight. 

ONE  STEP  HIGHER. 

H,  how  we  long  to  hear  the  voice 

Attuned  by  heavenly  fire, 
When  it  will  say:     "Take  heart:  rejoice. 

You're  wanted  one  step  higher." 

To  know  that  we  have  faithful  been 

In  all  the  cares  of  life : 
That  we  no  more  will  wish  to  sin, 

But  live  above  the  strife. 

No  more  the  tempter  will  hold  sway, 

Or  lead  us  from  the  right: 
His  hold  has  slipped  from  us  away, 

And  there  is  no  more  night. 

That  voice  will  speak  to  one  and  all, 

Some  day,  sometime,  somewhere: 
And  we  will  listen  to  the  call. 

And  dwell  in  life  more  fair 

Than  we  have  ever  hoped  to  see. 

Or  dreamed  'twould  be  our  lot. 
To  dwell  in  love  eternally. 

Without  one  gloomy  thought. 


I 


59 

MAN  WITHOUT  A  HOE. 

poor  man  knocks  at  a  rich  man's  door, 
For  a  crust  of  bread  he  doth  implore. 
The  rich  man  scans  with  searching  eyes, 
And  thus  unto  his  wants  replies: 
"March  on  your  way  with  weary  tread, 
You'll  soon  be  numbered  with  the  dead; 
Your  progress  now  is  very  slow, 
And  have  you,  sir,  no  place  to  go? 
Have  you  no  ground  to  till  and  hoe  ? 
These  are  the  things  we'd  like  to  know." 

"No;  though  I'm  of  the  human  race, 
I  have  no  home  or  friendly  place 
Where  I  can  rest  my  weary  head. 
Or  even  earn  my  daily  bread ; 
From  house  to  house  I  ne'er  would  go, 
If  I  but  had  a  place  to  hoe." 

"Keep  on  thy  way,  take  heart  and  know 
There's  many  a  man  without  a  hoe." 

"I've  marched  these  long  and  weary  years; 

At  times  my  path  is  dimmed  with  tears; 

And  progress  is  so  very  slow — 

No  friend  or  guide,  not  e'en  a  hoe, 

But  ever  onward  do  I  go, 

This  aimless  wandering  to  and  fro! 

Sometimes  I  think,  why  are  things  so 

That  I  can't  have  at  least  a  hoe 

To  rest  my  weary  limbs  upon. 

And  help  to  bear  my  load  along — 

My  load  of  sighs  and  silent  groans. 

Of  weary  flesh  and  aching  bones; 

My  wrinkled  brow  bowed  down  with  care; 

My  face,  it  once  in  youth  was  fair — 

But  now,  alas!  no  hope  or  fame; 

My  fate  is  told  like  that  of  Cain. 


60 


Then,  forward,  march!  uowhere  to  go. 

But  search,  I  yet  ma}^  find  a  hoe. 

Sometimes  it  dawns  upon  my  brain 

There's  something  wrong,  someone  to  blame. 

For  I  with  cheer  did  hoe  my  row, 

But  others   reaped  where  I  did  sow. 

Is  this  the  curse  of  Adam's  fall. 

That  some  should  sow,  ne'er  reap  at  all  ? 

That  others  reap  but  never  sow  ? 

And  some  march  aimless  to  and  fro, 

In  search  of  what,  they  do  not  know. 

And  care  they  not  which  way  they  go  ?  ^ 

Perhaps  we  all  would  have  our  share 

If  all  were  honest,  just  and  fair; 

But  some  for  others  take  no  heed; 
Their  lives  are  spent  in  selfish  greed; 
They're  always  ready  for  the  spoil. 
To  reap  the  fruit  of  others'  toil; 
And  then  they  close  their  selfish  eyes, 
As  if  the  truth  they  can  disguise, 
lyike  ostrich,  to  escape  the  man, 
Will  bury  up  his  head  in  sand, 
And  think,  because  he  cannot  see, 
The  man  is  just  as  blind  as  he." 

Now  the  rich  man  speaks  as  people  do 

Who  wish  to  hide  the  truth  from  view: 

"But  you  did  not  economize; 

You  ate  hoe-cake  and  pumpkin  pies; 

Also  beef,  and  pork  and  beans. 

And  ham  and  eggs  and  mustard  greens. 

Your  clothes  are  dirty  now  and  few — 

They  once  were  bright,  and  clean,  and  new, 

Enough  you  had  to  keep  you  warm. 

And  from  the  best  of  sheep  'twas  shorn. 

And  naught  would  make  your  soul  more  wroth 

Than  mixing  shoddy  in  your  cloth. 


61 


Your  boots  with  holes  that  toes  stick  through 
Were  made  to  order,  sir,  for  you — 
Were  fine  enough  for  any  dude — 
They're  from  the  calf  you  killed  for  food, 
And  now  you're  here  without  a  cent, 
Because  you  w^ere  extravagant. 
Talk  not  to  me  about  the  laws, 
But  look  within  yourself  for  flaws. 
If  you  had  done  as  rich  men  do, 
You'd  be  as  rich  as  they  are,  too, 
And  for  your  life  of  sin  and  shame 
There's  no  one  but  yourself  to  blame." 

The  poor  man,  filled  with  rank  disgust, 
Opens  his  mouth  and  answers  thus: 
"Your  talk  would  make  a  donkey  bray, 
And  drive  a  mule  from  oats  away; 
An  eagle  to  his  nest  would  fly 
For  fear  of  cyclone  in  the  sky. 
But  in  his  nest  he'd  sit  and  laugh 
To  think  that  he  w^as  scared  at  chaff. 
A  lion,  sir,  would  fly  in  rage 
And  try  his  best  to  break  his  cage; 
But  when  he  realh"  found  the  cause, 
A  mouse  could  sleep  between  his  paws. 
Although  I'm  here  without  a  cent. 
There's  naught  for  which  I  would  repent. 
In  all  my  life  I  do  take  pride 
To  know  that  I  have  never  lied 
For  sake  of  gain  or  w^orldh'  pelf, 
Or  e'er  by  fraud  enriched  myself: 
And  now  to-day  I'd  be  afraid 
If  you  would  offer  souls  to  trade. 
Although  I'm  old,  downcast  and  poor, 
And  stand  a  beggar  at  3'our  door. 
But  wealth  you'd  give  in  great  delight 
If  you  but  had  my  appetite. 


w 


62 


In  yonder  world  so  bright  and  fair, 

Where  poor  will  face  the  millionaire, 

Where  souls  are  known  for  what  they're  worth, 

And  not  for  coin,  or  royal  birth. 

But  for  the  deeds  that  they've  done  here, 

The  aid  and  comfort,  hope  and  cheer 

They've  lent  to  mortals  here  below, 

As  on  their  weary  march  they  go. 

How  sadly  then  you'll  meet  the  poor 

That  you  have  driven  from  your  door; 

Your  wealth  and  pride,  exalted  name. 

Will  but  increase  your  cup  of  shame, 

And  when  both  souls  are  in  full  view, 

I  would  not,  sir,  trade  souls  with  you." 

"I  raise  my  cane:  now  you  be  gone." 

"If  coat  don't  fit,  don't  put  it  on." 


ALONE. 

OR  nearly  three  years  I've  wandered  alone; 

I  have  houses  and  lands  and  yet  have  no  home. 
For  the  Angel  of  Death  has  removed  from  my  side 
The  spirit  of  her  who  was  once  my  fair  bride. 
And  now  in  my  sorrow  I  mourn  night  and  day 
For  the  love  of  my  dear  one  who  fell  by  the  way. 
I  went  to  a  picnic  to-day,  all  alone. 
Though  many  were  there  that  I  long  had  known; 
And  I  mingled  with  them  for  quite  a  long  time. 
But  no  one  could  comfort  this  poor  heart  of  mine. 
I  sat  in  the  hall  where  the  young  and  the  gay 
Kept  time  to  the  music  the  most  of  the  day; 
And  my  mind  took  me  back,  away  back,  forsooth. 
Where  I  danced  with  my  love  in  the  days  of  my  youth. 
Oh!  how  I  did  grieve  as  I  sat  there  alone: 
To  think  how  her  life  from  my  bosom  had  flown; 
And  tho'  all  around  were  the  young  and  the  gay — 
I  was  alone  with  my  sorrow  the  whole  of  the  day. 


63 
SniLES. 

§  MILES  are  but  simple  little  things, 
Yet;  oh,  the  joy  to  tell, 
They're  not  alone  for  lords  or  kings, 
But  for  the  serfs  as  well. 

We  may  be  poor  in  earthly  gain, 

Yet  have  a  jovial  heart, 
And  we  may  smile  in  greatest  pain 

That  causes  tears  to  start. 

And  we  may  smile  at  thought  of  death. 

We  need  not  fear  to  die; 
'Tis  but  the  passing  of  the  breath 

To  fairer  worlds  on  high. 

'Tis  better  far  to  smile  than  grieve, 
'Twill  help  to  stem  the  tide. 

We've  greater  strength  when  we  believe 
Our  bark  all  storms  will  ride. 

'Tis  just  as  well  to  smile  as  cry; 

We  think  it  better  far 
To  have  a  bright  and  smiling  eye 

Than  let  our  weeping  mar. 

Then  give  a  smile,  aye,  one,  two,  three, 

A  good  broad  smile  to  all: 
And  may  it  fill  all  hearts  with  glee, 

But  cause  no  tears  to  fall. 

HOW  PLEASANTI 


M 


OW  pleasant  when  the  day  is  done, 

And  we  retire  to  rest, 
To  know  that  we've  wronged  no  one- 

That  we  have  done  our  best. 


64 

To  know  that  we've  been  good  and  kind 

To  all  we've  met  to-day, 
That  we  have  spoken  pleasant  words, 

To  cheer  them  on  their  way. 

This  is  a  pleasant  world  we're  in, 

And  we  should  ever  try 
To  see  the  good  in  everything 

And  let  the  bad  pass  by. 

There's  many  whom  we  meet  in  life 

Who  may  look  stern  and  cold, 
But  it  may  be  the  inner  life 

Would  shine  like  burnished  gold. 

The  earth  is  filled  with  precious  gems, 

But  they  are  hid  from  view, 
While  those  that  lie  exposed  to  sight 

Are  very,  very  few. 

Then  judge  no  one  by  what  you  see 

Upon  the  outer  side: 
The  finest  pearls  beneath  the  sea 

May  have  rough  shells  in  which  they  hide. 

MAKE  A  FRIEND  OF  YOURSELF. 

AKE  a  friend  of  yourself 

While  you  journey  below, 
And  look  well  to  the  kind 

Of  seeds  that  you  sow. 
For  none  would  be  happy 

In  heaven  above, 
To  be  winnowing  out  hate 

From  the  harvest  of  love. 

In  the  long,  weary  night, 

Where  darkness  holds  sway. 
We  serenely  will  rest 

Till  the  dawn  of  the  day, 


65 


If  our  conscience  is  clear 

And  free  from  all  sin, 
And  the  bright  star  of  love 

Is  shining   within. 

Be  at  peace  with  yourself, 

Make  sure  of  one  friend. 
Who  in  dark,  doubtful  moments 

A  strong  arm  will  lend. 
"Self"  ever  is  near  you, 

Be  your  gait  fast  or  slow, 
And  will  comfort  and  cheer  you 

Wherever  you  go. 


AMERICA. 

feAND  ever  for  freedom,  proud  land  of  our  birth, 
O,  why  should  we  war  to  have  more  of  earth? 
The  gold  of  the  mountains,  the  gems  of  the  sea 
And  the  bright  sparkling  fountains  pay  tribute  to  thee. 
The  swift  moving  steamers,  the  incoming  tide, 
Adds  strength  to  our  nation  and  great  wealth  beside, 
The  breath  of  the  ocean  bears  food  near  and  far, 
That's  raised  by  the  toilers  'neath  I^iberty  star. 
When  famine's  gaunt  finger  is  felt  in  a  land. 
To  whom  do  they  look  but  to  dear  Uncle  Sam? 
Was  there  ever  a  call  that  was  made  all  in  vain? — 
We  answer:     ''A  cargo  will  be  sent  by  first  trainl" 
Sending  clothes  to  the  needy,  relieving  distress — 
Our  nation  is  always  ahead  of  the  rest. 
Giving  food  to  the  hungry  speaks  better  by  far 
Than  all  the  loud  notes  of  our  engines  of  war. 
For  shame,  fair  Columbia,  to  have  it  be  said. 
You're  sending  forth  bullets  instead  of  our  bread. 
Cease  striving  for  greatness,  Earth's  wealth  to  obtain, 
But  untarnished  forever  hold  sacred  our  name. 


M 


66 
CHRISTMAS  FOR  THE  CHILDREN. 

AS  Santa  Claus  been  here  again? 

I  feared  he  would  not  come, 
He  lives  away  up  in  the  North, 

Where  the  reindeer  make  their  home. 

The  children  all  expect  he'll  come 

A  riding  in  a  sled, 
With  robes  of  fur  and  mittens  on 

And  snow-flakes  on  his  head. 

But  here  in  this  warm  clime  of  ours. 

His  sled  would  never  do; 
Although  his  deer  are  very  strong, 

They  could  not  pull  him  through. 

His  deer  are  strong  and  sleek  and  quick. 
But  they  are  used  to  snow; 

Here  they  would  jump  and  snort  and  kick- 
In  dust  they  will  not  go. 

I  don't  see  how  he  ever  came 

And  brought  so  many  things, 
Unless  he  harnessed  up  some  owls 

And  came  here  on  their  wings. 

He  did  not  come  upon  the  cars, 

They  would  not  check  him  through; 

He  seldom  carries  ready  cash. 
And  trinkets  would  not  do. 

If  he  should  ever  come  by  rail, 

The  truth  is  plain  enough. 
They'd  have  to  ship  him  here  by  freight. 

He  carries  so  much  stuff. 

Oh!  it  may  be  he  came  by  boat 

And  landed  in  the  night, 
When  all  the  people  were  asleep, 

So  none  would  take  a  fright. 


a 


67 


You  need  not  try  to  guess,  my  boys, 

For  guessing  is  no  use; 
Perhaps  he  boxed  and  shipped  the  toys 

And  came  with  Mother  Goose. 

For  Mother  Goose  is  sure  to  come, 

She's  never  known  to  fail; 
She  always  brings  her  books  along 
With  many  a  fairy  tale. 

Maybe  that  he  has  learned  the  art 

A  wheel  to  ride  and  steer — 
Who  could  be  trusted  with  the  toys? 

That  part  is  not  so  clear. 

Ah!  now  we  see  it  very  plain, 

He  loves  the  children  so; 
It  was  the  childrens'  loving  hearts, 

That  brought  him  here,  we  know! 

RESPONSE  TO  AN  ENCORE. 

H,  me!  I  fear  that  I  must  cry, 

My  head  is  like  a  sieve; 
My  thoughts  have  all  gone  through  the  pores 

And  I  have  naught  to  give. 
There's  brother  Dave,  and  sister  Mat, 

They  write  whene'er  they  please, 
Of  barking  dog  or  squalling  cat, 

Or  e'en  of  jumping  fleas; 
But  me!  O,  my!  I  rack  my  brai^i 

And  turn  it  inside  out — 
But  Ah!  Alas!  'tis  all  in  vain — 

To  grind  a  poem  out. 
Well,  now,  let's  see,  what  can  I  do? 

I'm  billed  to  entertain; 
I  give  it  up.  It  must  fall  through; 

To  try  is  all  in  vain. 


68 


AVALON. 


TgjO  pen  of  mine  can  e'er  portray 
J.r^     The  beauties  of  this  island  bay, 
Where  mountain  peaks  above  us  rise, 
Like  castles  grand,  high  in  the  skies. 
Here  gentle  waves  dash  at  our  feet 
And  then  recede,  again  they  meet 
Another  wave,  and  then  they  pour 
Their  sparkling  water  on  the  shore. 
Seldom  the  billows  here  hold  sway 
In  this  secluded,  peaceful  bay. 
Here  fish  are  seen,  both  small  and  great, 
From  early  morn  till  evening  late. 
In  countless  schools  they're  passing  by, 
They  swim  and  jump  and  even  fly. 
And  some  are  playing  just  for  fun, 
Others  are  basking  in  the  sun, 
While  some  with  wise,  suspicious  look 
Are  glancing  at  the  angler's  hook. 
Others  are  struggling  with  their  might, 
For  they  have  made  the  fatal  bite. 
Wise  ones  look  on  in  great  dismay. 
Then  turn  their  tails  and  swim  away. 
And  anglers  look  with  faces  long 
And  sigh  because  the  sign  is  wrong. 
They  lift  their  hooks,  spit  on  the  bait 
And  then  again  in  patience  wait. 
There's  lots  of  sport  for  those  who  wish 
To  catch  the  larger  kinds  of  fish. 
If  well  supplied  with  rod  and  reel 
And  hooks  made  of  the  best  of  steel. 
We  go  with  Joe,  the  Indian  guide, 
And  out  beyond  the  bay  we  glide, 
And  Oh,  what  joy  to  hear  the  swish 
When  we  have  struck  a  gamey  fish. 


69 


There's  Tuna,  Cod,  and  Yellow  tail, 
And  Jewfisli  covered  o'er  with  mail. 
Yes,  there  are  Shark  and  Albercore — 
The  list's  to  long  to  mention  o'er. 
But  it  requires  much  nerve  and  skill 
To  land  such  fish  against  their  will. 
It  tries  the  courage  of  the  brave 
To  battle  here  with  fish  and  wave. 
Serenely  now  old  Joe  will  stand 
And  calmly  wait  with  gafi"  in  hand 
And  help  to  gratify  our  wish 
And  land  for  us  a  mighty  fish. 
And  when  our  fishing  sport  is  o'er, 
And  we  are  safe  again  on  shore. 
We'll  listen  to  the  band  at  play: 
It  helps  to  drive  dull  care  away. 
And  then  into  the  hall  we  go 
And  trip  the  "light  fantastic  toe", 
With  charming  maids  of  beauty  rare, 
With  dimpled  cheek  and  golden  hair. 
To  hear  one  laugh    is  such  a  treat. 
It  puts  new  movements  in  our  feet, 
It  warms  our  blood,  inspires  our  brain 
And  makes  us  think  we're  young  again. 
Our  fishing  sport  is  in  the  shade, 
For  we  prefer  a  merry  maid. 
We  almost  fear  that  we  shall  cry 
When  we  shall  have  to  say  good-bye, 
And  leave  this  spot,  so  free  from  strife, 
And  battle  once  again  with  life. 
We  make  a  vow  to  sooth  our  brain, 
That  we  will  soon  return  again. 
I  need  not  tell  the  royal  fun 
That's  here  for  those  who  use  the  gun. 
There're  foxes,  quail  and  mountain  goat, 
In  canyons  close  and  hills  remote. 


70 


And,  if  you're  used  to  hunting  game 

You'll  seldom  fail  to  bag  the  same; 

For  those  who  start  in  early  morn 

At  eve  return  with  goats'  big  horn. 

It  all  depends  upon  your  nerve, 

There's  plenty  game  in  this  preserve. 

Its  all  in  vain,  I  cannot  tell 

The  beauties  of  this  island  dell. 

Where  land  and  sky  and  ocean  meet 

In  gentle  wavelets  at  our  feet. 

All  nature  here  has  done  her  best 

To  make  a  place  where  man  can  rest, 

And  lay  aside  all  anxious  care 

And  lie  and  breathe  the  balmy  air, 

Relax  his  tired  nerves  and  brain. 

And  build  them  up  for  future  strain. 

Here  we  can  run  with  perfect  ease — 

No  tonic  like  the  ocean  breeze. 

And  pleasure  here  doth  find  full  sway, 

There's  naught  to  fear  in  this  blessed  bay. 

Here  gentle  waves  forever  roll, 

Like  sweetest  music  on  the  soul. 

While  raging  billows,  surging  tide. 

In  anger  dash  the  other  side, 

Its  heard  and  seen  for  miles  away 

Old  ocean's  roar  and  salty  spray. 

But  here  the  wavelets  gently  beat 

In  peaceful  ripples  at  our  feet, 

And  gently  whisper  in  our  ears 

The  accents  of  the  heavenly  spheres. 

Methinks  I  hear  the  wavelets  say: 

There's  much  in  store  for  this  blest  bay. 


71 
APOLOGY  TO  A  WOUNDED  FOOT. 

FORGIVE  me,  foot,  that  I  hurt  you  so, 
It  never  should  have  been; 
To  cut  and  bruise,  and  make  blood  flow 
When  you've  been  such  a  friend. 

You've  served  me  well  for  many  a  year, 

And  never  refused,  I  know. 
To  take  me  where  my  duties  were, 

Or  where  I  wished  to  go. 

You  were  there  through  all,  when  I  was  small, 

And  life  was  full  of  pleasure. 
Were  always  ready,  at  my  call. 

To  help  fill  up  joy's  measure. 

You  carried  me  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

In  any  kind  of  weather. 
And  when  we  nearly  lost  the  trail 

And  were  snow-bound  together. 

You  carried  me  where  in  the  meadows  fair 

The  joyous  birds  were  singing. 
And  daisies  bright  lift  their  heads  in  sight, 

Where  the  bells  of  the  cows  were  ringing. 

Yes,  you  were  there  when  a  maiden  fair 

And  I  held  hands  together. 
When  I  kissed  her  brow  with  the  solemn  vow 

That  naught  but  death  should  sever. 

You  bore  me  up  when  the  bitter  cup 
With  grief  my  heart  was  rending, 

And  gave  me  all  your  strength  at  call, 
E'en  to  the  journey's  ending. 

You  rode  with  me  along  the  trail 
Where  the  brightest  flowers  bloom, 

And  in  the  shadow  of  the  vale 
Held  me  beside  her  tomb. 


72 


I  know  that  you  within  your  shoe 

Did  tremble  like  a  leaf, 
For  fear  that  I  would  surely  die, 

So  intense  was  my  grief. 

You  and  your  mate,  in  many  a  state, 

Have  carried  me  together. 
Glad  to  relate  that  ne'er  has  fate 

Decreed  that  we  should  sever. 

I  trust  that  Time  with  healing  wine 

Will  make  you  good  as  ever. 
And  may  we  three  in  peace  agree. 

Till  we  scale  the  heights  together. 

J' 
BOYHOOD  DAYS. 

WELIy  we  remember,  when  a  boy, 
How  we  were  pleased  with  simplest  toy: 
And  how,  as  we  in  stature  grew, 
The  simple  toys  no  more  would  do; 
We  searched  within  the  woods  for  fun, 
With  "stub-twist"  double-barrel  gun. 
And  many  were  the  kinds  of  game 
That  met  their  death  by  our  true  aim, 
And  many  a  delicious  meal 
We  made  on  pigeon,  snipe  or  teal. 
And  rabbit,  quail  and  prairie-hen. 
Or  pheasant  from  the  darkest  glen; 
E'en  squirrel  from  his  lofty  seat 
Came  tumbling  downward  at  our  feet. 

'Twas  not  in  need  we  used  the  gun, 
But  just  for  healthy,  careless  fun. 
For  father's  home  was  well  supplied 
With  meat  both  cured  and  fresh,  or  dried; 
But  something  wild  from  off  the  range 
Was  prized  by  all  just  for  a  change. 


M 


73 


But  now  I  often  do  repent, 
That  time  was  not  much  better  spent, 
And  sit  and  mourn  in  doleful  lays 
The  way  I  spent  my  childhood  days; 
For  school  and  books  I'd  little  care, 
My  mind  was  seldom  ever  there. 

Had  I  but  learned  the  art,  when  3^oung, 
To  speak  my  thoughts  with  pen  and  tongue, 
I  might  have  lived  a  better  life, 
Had  more  of  gain  and  less  of  strife; 
Were  I  to  choose  again,  I  know, 
That  I  would  no  more  hunting  go, 
Unless  'twas  when  the  school  was  out 
I'd  take  my  gun  and  stroll  about; 
But  I  will  cease,  no  more  complain — 
There's  no  one  but  my  self  to  blame. 

THE  HAVEN  OF  REST. 

AVE  you  been  to  my  home,  the  "Haven  of  Rest," 
Where  the  pure  mountain  air  builds  hope  in  the 

breast — 
Where  widows  and  maids,  e'en  old  men,  forsooth, 
Are  sure  to  renew  the  fountains  of  youth ; 
Where  the  mocking-bird  trills  to  his  mate  on  her 

nest, 
And  the  whippoorwill's  song  will  lull  you  to  rest; 
Where  the  fragrance  of  flowers  is  in  every  breeze, 
And  their  sweet,  golden  nectar  is  stored  by  the  bees; 
Where  we're  fanned  ever}^   day  by  the  breath   of 

the  deep. 
And  the  cool  mountain  zephyrs  will  woo  you  to 

sleep; 
Where  the  mountains,  like  castles,  far  heavenward 

tower, 
A  symbol  of  grandeur,  sublimity,  power; 


74 


And  on  their  fair  faces  there  oft-times  are  seen 
All  the  hues  of  the    rainbow  with  background  of 

green. 
Each  vies  with  the  other — in  harmony  blend — 
And  speaks  to  the  soul  like  the  voice  of  a  friend. 
'Tis  heard  by  the  poet  and  sketched  by  his  pen, 
And  is  passed  from  his  brain  to  the  children  of  men, 
And  will  thrill  down  the  ages  in  full  notes  of  rhyme, 
lyike  the  words  of  the  sages,  in  accents  sublime. 
Yes,  this  is  a  haven,  a  sweet  haven  of  rest, 
Where  kind  Mother  Nature  has  striven  her  best — 
From  the  deep  and  dark  canyons  to  the  bright 

mountain  top, 
And  the  pure,  sparkling  water  right  fresh  from 

the  rock; 
Where  the  chorus  of  song-birds,  the  humming  of 

bees. 
The  rare,  brilliant  flowers  and  cool,  shady  trees — 
To  make  a  fair  haven,  a  restful  retreat. 
Where  the  sick  and  the  weary  in  harmony  meet, 
And  the  bright  bloom  of  health  rests  again  on  the 

cheek. 
'Tis  just  such  a  haven  the  weary  should  seek. 
But  this  haven  of  rest  is  as  naught  to  compare 
To  that  haven  above  for  which  all  should  prepare; 
Where  sickness  will  never  be  felt  any  more, 
And  love  shall  e'er  rule  on  that  bright,  tranquil 

shore. 


TO  THE  riEnORY  OF  A  GRANDCHILD. 


1 


SPARK  of  life  came  from  the  darkness, 

Like  a  gleam  of  sun's  bright  ray. 
And  it  paused  upon  our  threshold 
And  we  prayed  that  it  might  stay. 


75 


But  it  paused  just  for  a  moment, 
lyike  a  flash  of  diamond  bright; 

We  scarce  had  time  to  gaze  upon  it, 
Ere  it  faded  from  our  sight. 

It  was  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
That  she  passed  from  earth  away, 

And  it  left  us  all  in  darkness, 
Save  the  light  of  memory. 

Yes,  the  angels  took  our  darling 
To  their  heavenly  home  away, 

Leaving  us  to  mourn  in  sorrow 
O'er  her  lifeless  form  of  clay. 

Though  she  was  so  young  and  tender, 
And  so  short  her  stay  on  earth, 

Yet  we  know  the  bud  will  blossom 
And  unfold  a  heavenly  birth. 

But  we  feel  our  loss  so  deeply. 

And  our  fate  we  do  deplore, 
Still  we  know  that  we  shall  meet  her, 

When  we  pass  to  Heaven's  bright  shore. 

May  the  love  of  heaven  surround  us, 

Ever  guide  us  here  below. 
And  the  memory  of  our  darling 

Light  our  path  where'er  we  go. 

Bright  spark  of  life,  fond  ray  of  hope. 

Thy  form  we  may  not  see. 
But  some  day  you  will  know  your  own 

And  you  will  then  return  to  me. 

And  we  know  'tis  no  delusion, 
'Tis  no  vague  fancy  of  the  brain, 

Tho'  she's  gone,  we  cannot  see  her, 
We  yet  will  feel  her  love  again. 


As  the  lilies  love  the  sunshine 
And  the  roses  love  the  dew, 

So  our  darling  loves  her  mamma 
And  she  will  come  back  to  you. 

As  the  ocean  holds  the  liver 
And  the  river  holds  the  rill, 

So  your  heart  doth  hold  your  baby 
And  her  spirit's  with  you  still. 

Cease  your  sorrow  and  your  sighing, 
lyive  for  those  who  need  you  here, 

You  have  yet  three  precious   darlings. 
And  they  need  their  mamma  dear. 

And  within  the  distant  future, 

When  we  reach  the  great  unknown, 

Then  we  know  that  we  shall  find  her 
In  a  mansion  of  her  own. 

When  upon  each  head  is  shining 
Crown  of  gems  and  beauty  rare. 

Then  you'll  see  upon  your  darling 
Brightest  crown  of  glory  there — 

Crown  that  none  but  babes  may  wear. 


TICKING. 

TICKING,  ticking  all  the  day. 
How  the  time  does  fly  away, 
How  the  seconds  come  and  go 
Just  like  marbles  in  a  row, 
Ever  rolling  on  and  on; 
Scarcely  come,  when  they  are  gone, 
Fade  from  sight  just  one  by  one, 
Like  the  dew  drops  in  the  sun; 
Where  they  go  none  knows  the  place 
Though  they  sometimes  leave  a  trace. 


Or  a  track  while  they  were  here, 
Be  it  moments,  mouths  or  year. 
See  them  go,  how  swift  they  fly, 
Never  stop  to  say  good-bye, 
Never  halting  on  the  way, 
Ticking  off  the  time  of  day; 
None  can  check  them  in  their  flight, 
In  the  darkness  or  the  light, 
Always  coming  never  stay. 
Simply  passing  time  away; 
Nations  rise  and  nations  fall. 
For  the  ticking  beats  them  all. 
Never  stops,  to  none  she'll  bow. 
Lives  in  the  eternal  now. 
Hope  the  time  will  never  come 
When  your  ticking  will  be  done. 
If  you  slumbered  in  the  night 
And  forgot  to  bring  the  light. 
If  the  ticking  e'er  should  stop 
Of  creation's  wonderous  clock, 
None  could  tell  the  reason  why 
For  all  living  things  would  die. 

J' 
TO  FATHER. 

/5)  RAND  sire  of  a  numerous  host, 
V3     That  very  few  on  earth  can  boast, 
Can  you  discern  the  coming  day? 
Do  you  behold  an  angry  storm 
Of  nations  striving  to  be  born? 
No,  all  is  well,  methinks,  you  say. 

Or  can  you  with  prophetic  eye 
Discern  the  future  in  the  sky. 

And  warn  us  of  our  future  fate? 
Or  can  you  see  the  skies  are  clear 
And  there  is  naught  for  us  to  fear? 

We're  ruled  by  love  instead  of  hate! 


78 


Oh  can  you  not  some  message  leave, 
To  cheer  the  hearts  of  those  who  grieve, 

And  greatly  miss  you  when  you'r  gone, 
Some  message  of  parental  love 
To  guide  us  to  your  home  above, 

And  fill  our  mourning  hearts  with  song; 

We  know  the  good  advise  you've  given 
Is  like  the  stars  that  point  to  heaven, 

Will  ever  rest  in  memories  hall; 
But  we  would  like  another  line 
No  matter  whether  prose  or  rhyme 

Before  you  heed  the  final  call. 


W 


DECORATION  DAY,   1900. 

lyL  deck  the  graves  alike  to-day — 

Each  brave  but  fallen  brother; 
No  steel  e're  met  with  braver  foe, 

Nor  will  it  find  another. 
'Tis  sad  for  foe  to  meet  in  strife, 

But  sadder  yet  for  brother. 
No  more  we'll  meet  in  deadly  strife. 

The  bugle  sounds,  but  sounds  in  vain; 
No  more  in  fields  of  carnage  rife 

Will  brothers'  blood  imbue  the  plain, 

For  we  as  one  will  e'er  remain. 
Then  strew  the  flowers  upon  each  grave, 

'Tis  but  the  dust  that's  buried  there; 
The  soul  has  gone  to  him  who  gave 

And  dwells  in  peace  forever,  where 

Brotherly  love  pervades  the  air. 
Then  sheathe  the  sword  and  ne'er  again 

May  war's  dark  mantle  o'er  us  fall; 
May  love  and  peace  forever  reign. 

And  may  all  answer  to  the  call 

Of  kindly  deeds  to  one  and  all. 


FOR  JAMES  E.  BAKER  ON  HIS  83d  BIRTHDAY. 


I 


M  four-score  years  and  three  to-day, 

I'm  stronger  now  than  when 
An  infant  frail  in  arms  I  lay 
Of  those  who  loved  me  then. 

If  then,  as  I  do  older  grow, 

I  see  that  I  am  stronger, 
Why  should  I  not  some  courage  show 

And  try  to  live  years  longer? 

Though  Death  at  times  comes  near  my  door, 

I  say  to  him:     "Be-gone!" 
I've  started  on  another  score, 

I  may  live  on  and  on. 

Long  years  I've  lived  on  Mother  Earth, 

I  haste  not  to  forsake  her, 
But  when  there  dawns  my  second  birth, 

All's  well  with  James  K.  Baker. 


I 


THOUGHTS  ON  THANKSGIVING  DAY. 

N  converse  sweet  once  more  we  meet 
With  friends  on  earth  we  dearly  love, 

Nor  deem  our  happiness  complete 
Without  a  thought  of  those  above. 

Not  thoughts  that  would  reflect  in  pain 
And  fill  our  eyes  with  scalding  tears; 

Nor  would  we  wish  them  back  again 
To  dwell  with  us  a  few  short  years. 

Not  thoughts  of  grief  nor  yet  of  fear, 
But  thoughts  of  love  we  would  impart; 

Methinks  we  feel  their  presence  near. 

And  heart  once  more  communes  with  heart. 


80 
THE  SPARK  DIVINE. 


TQ  OT  one  spark  of  life  is  lost 


Though  our  bark  be  tetapest-tossed, 
And  mad  waves  around  us  roll, 
They  can  never  wreck  the  soul. 

We  may  be  by  sin  oppressed 
And  do  that  which  is  not  best, 

Yet  the  soul  is  ever  pure, 

Hates  the  deed  but  not  the  doer. 

Each  one  has  a  spark  divine 

Which  will  bloom  in  its  own  time. 

And  bear  fruit  on  life's  fair  tree, 
Throughout  all  eternity. 


AN     EXCUSE    TO  A    FRIEND    FOR   NOT  WRITING 
A    POEM. 


W"'„', 


to  write  a  poem 

For  one  whose  souls'  in  tune 
To  the  harmonies  of  Nature, 

lyike  the  mocking  bird  in  June? 
Who  sees  in  leaf  and  flower 

Intelligence  divine, 
Whose  soul  is  tuned  to  melody 

More  sensitive  than  mine; 
Whose  ear  vibrates  to  music 

Of  the  rippling  of  the  rill, 
Or  the  chirping  of  the  sparrow, 

Or  the  song  of  whippoorwill. 
Who  sees  a  God  of  Wisdom 

In  every  breeze  that  blows, 
And  beholds  His  loving  presence 

In  the  dew-drop  on  the  rose, 


@ 


81 

In  fact  perceives  the  beauty 

In  all  things,  great  and  small 
And  knows  God's  love  and  wisdom 

Is  the  maker  of  them  all. 
What,  I  to  sing  a  song  for  her? 

Why,  she  should  sing  for  me, 
And  fill  my  weary  soul  with  joy, 

By  her  sweet  melody. 

THE   OCEAN. 

H !  we  love  the  mighty  ocean, 

Love  to  hear  its  billows  roar, 
As  the  mighty  waves  come  dashing, 
Dashing,  crashing  on  the  shore, 
Just  as  they  have  done  before: 
Simply  dashing,  nothing  more. 
See  the  waves  are  all  in  motion. 
Always  coming  toward  the  shore, 
Coming,  going,  ever  moving. 
Breaking,  dashing  as  before; 
Simply  rolling  on  the  shore; 
Always  rolling,  evermore. 
Yes,  'tis  like  the  oft  repeating 
Of  life's  duties  o'er  and  o'er; 
Ever  forward,  then  receding, 
Beating  time  upon  the  shore. 
Sometimes  less  and  sometimes  more, 
Just  the  same  as  e'er  before; 
Always  rolling  on  the  shore. 
Now  we'll  go  to  yonder  headland, 
And  the  Muse  we  will  implore: 
Show  us  why  the  gentle  billows 
Break  here  with  such  deafening  roar. 
Sending  spray,  and  salty  water, 
Drenching  us  as  ne'er  before? 
Its  rock  foundation,  nothing  more. 


Yes,  the  waves  are  always  rolling, 
Rolling  gently  on  the  shore; 
Or,  maybe,  in  anger  breaking. 
And  with  grand  and  muffled  roar 
Fairly  shake  the  earth's  foundation, 
Throwing  spray  far  on  the  shore, 
As  it  oftimes  did  before. 

Life  is  like  the  restless  ocean, 
Bearing  freight  from  shore  to  shore, 
Oft  the  waves  lash  in  commotion 
On  the  side  of  earthly  shore; 
But  they're  ever  gently  rippling, 
Where  the  storms  can  come  no  more, 
Where  our  friends  have  gone  before. 

All  must  launch  upon  the  billows 
Of  this  rolling,  restless  sea; 
Ever  moving,  never  resting, 
Moving  on  to  destiny; 
Prince  or  pauper,  high  or  low; 
Barques  are  moving,  all  must  go; 
Scarcely  moving,  but  we  go. 

Life  is  like  the  rolling  ocean. 
Always  moving,  ne'er  at  rest; 
Bearing  life  upon  her  bosom, 
Human  life  upon  her  breast; 
And  we're  drifting,  ever  drifting 
With  the  ebb  and  flow  of  tide, 
Ever  moving,  changing,  shifting, 
Whether  fast  or  slow  we  glide. 

And  at  times  we  think  we're  nearer, 
Nearer  to  that  other  shore. 
When  some  loved  one  that  is  dearer. 
Dearer  than  had  gone  before. 
Beckons  us  to  leave  life's  pleasures. 
And  like  them  be  wafted  o'er; 


83 


For  the  one  who  does  the  rowing 
Simply  wills  from  shore  to  shore, 
Simply  wills  and  nothing  more. 

And  we  know  not  what's  before  us, 
Breakers  may  be  just  ahead; 
Place  your  trust,  then,  in  the  Pilot, 
There  is  naught  we  need  to  dread. 
Yes,  we'll  leave  all  to  the  Pilot, 
Just  as  all  have  done  before. 
For  we're  sure  that  they  were  landed 
Safely  on  the  other  shore. 
Where  the  billows  break  no  more. 
Laughing  ripples  evermore. 

Many  friends  we'll  have  to  meet  us 
When  we  reach  that  other  shore, 
And  we  think  with  joy  they'll  greet  us. 
As  they've  greeted  us  before; 
And  we'll  never  more  be  parted. 
And  earth's  trials  will  be  o'er. 
And  the  glorious  love  of  heaven 
Fills  our  souls  forevermore, 
Fills  as  ne'er  'twas  filled  before, 
Filled  up  full  and  running  o'er. 

Tongue  can  never  tell  the  glories 
Of  that  bright,  celestial  shore; 
There  we'll  eat  the  bread  of  heaven. 
And  will  hunger  nevermore: 
And  we'll  drink  the  living  waters 
From  the  fountain  streams  of  life; 
And  we'll  meet  our  sons  and  daughters, 
Freed  from  toil  and  weary  strife. 
When  their  earthly  course  is  ended, 
And  their  heavenly  one  begun, 
Then  we  hope  there  will  be  missing 
Not  one  darling  little  one. 


m. 


84 
WAITING. 

HO  kno^s  the  mysteries  of  death? 

None  knows  the  secrets  of  his  ways, 
What  caused  us  first  to  draw  our  breath, 

What  takes  it  now  and  ends  our  days. 

The  time  will  come,  we  all  shall  know 
Why  life  to  us  on  earth  is  given, 

May  be  our  mission  here  below, 
Is  to  prepare  our  souls  for  heaven. 

But  we  must  all  with  patience  wait, 

At  best  it  can't  be  very  long, 
Sometimes,  methinks,  they're  at  the  gate: 

The  burial  hearse,  the  funeral  throng. 

I  fear  them  not,  my  heart  is  sick. 
In  haste  I'd  open  wide  the  door, 

I'm  here,  O  Lord,  receive  me  quick 
And  guide  me  safe  to  yonder  shore. 

My  faith  is  great,  it  can't  be  worse, 
I  think,  it  better  far  would  be 

To  loose  these  bands,  this  casket  burst 
And  set  my  restless  spirit  free. 

Weep  not  for  me  when  I  am  gone. 
But  rather,  lift  your  hearts  in  praise 

To  him  who  leads  from  dark  to  dawn 
And  gives  to  us  our  length  of  days. 

The  bounds  are  fixed  that  none  can  pass, 
No  matter  whether  rich  or  poor, 

We'll  wait  our  time  'twill  come  at  last, 
It  may  be  now  just  at  the  door. 

We  cannot  tell,  for  no  one  knows, 
When  messenger  of  death  will  come 

At  active  work,  or  calm  repose, 

When  he  doth  call,  we'll  all  go  home. 


a 


85 
SOLILOQUY. 

RE  you  gone — yes  gone  forever? 

Shall  I  never  see  yon  more? 
Oh,  cannot  the  veil  be  lifted? 

Is  there  not  an  open  door, 
Where  our  souls  can  hold  communion 

With  the  loved  ones  gone  before? 

Speak,  oh,  speak  some  word  of  comfort; 

Let  me  hear  your  voice  again. 
Dearest  loved  one  of  my  bosom, 

Are  lay  prayers  and  tears  in  vain? 
Do  you  know  my  joys  and  sorrows? 

Can  you  cheer  this  troubled  brain? 

Must  I  ever  grope  in  sadness, 

While  dark  waves  around  me  roll? 

Will  there  not  some  ray  of  gladness 
Lift  the  shadows  off  my  soul? 

Speak!  my  heart  is  filled  with  sadness. 
Sadness  I  cannot  control. 

Hark!  methinks  I  hear  an  echo    • 
From  the  bright  celestial  shore: 

"Dearest,  loved  one,  I  am  near  you; 
Grieve,  oh,  grieve  for  me  no  more! 

Let  the  still,  small  voice  of  reason 
Ever  guide  you,  I  implore. 

"Yes,  I  know  your  joys  and  sorrows; 

Yes,  there  is  an  open  door; 
And  the  veil  will  lift  to-morrow. 

And  we'll  see  as  ne'er  before — 
See  the  glorious  light  of  heaven. 

Dwell  in  wisdom  evermore. 

"At  times  there  is  a  little  shadow 

On  the  threshold  of  our  door. 
When  we  see  our  friends  are  grieving 


86 


For  the  loved  ones  gone  before. 
Haste  and  put  away  your  sorrow; 
Cast  no  shadow  on  this  shore. 

"Earthly  sorrows  are  but  fleeting; 

Cast,  oh,  cast  your  grief  away. 
Soon  will  come  the  happy  meeting, 

Soon  will  dawn  a  brighter  day, 
And  we'll  love  each  other  ever — 

Love  that  fails  not  on  the  way. 

"Soon  the  glorious  light  of  heaven 
Will  upon  the  darkness  pour, 

And  all  doubts  and  fears  and  sorrows 
Will  depart  to  come  no  more. 

Death  again  will  never  sever 
Those  united  on  this  shore. 

"And  we'll  know  each  other  better, 
Know  as  we  ne'er  knew  before, 

And  with  joy  we'll  soar  together 
And  the  universe  explore; 

And  no  sorrow  e'er  will  enter 
O'er  the  threshold  of  our  door." 


fe 


GOOD  ADVICE. 

ET  no  evil  thought  beguile  us, 
Let  no  form  of  sin  defile  us, 
Or  lead  us  far  astray; 
Ever  guard  each  fleeting  moment 
And  you'll  not  need  an  atonement 
For  the  sins  of  yesterday. 

If  we  do  but  good  to-day. 
Ever  follow  in  the  way 

Of  righteous  thought  and  action, 


87 


We  will  ever  know  no  fear, 
And  will  meet  all  things  with  cheer; 
Right  will  keep  us  from  distraction. 

Good  thoughts  help  the  soul  immortal, 
Open  wide  the  pearly  portal, 

And  we  see  the  other  side, 
Where  our  friends  have  gone  before  us; 
And  we  sometimes  hear  their  chorus 

Wafted  on  the  evening  tide. 

Oh,  if  we  but  only  knew 

That  our  thoughts  were  in  full  view 

Of  those  who  are  above  us, 
Methinks  that  we  would  courage  take. 
And  ever  would  all  wrong  forsake 

For  the  sake  of  those  who  love  us. 

There's  a  higher  life  for  all 
If  we  but  listen  to  the  call 

Of  truth  that  speaks  within  us; 
Close  not  the  portals  of  the  mind, 
But  ever  seek,  and  we  shall  find 

That  good  lies  hidden  in  us. 

To  bring  forth  good,  then,  to  the  light, 
We  must  supplant  all  wrong  with  right. 

Or  wrong  will  overcome  us; 
The  grandest  thing  for  us  to  do 
Is,  choose  the  right,  her  path  pursue 

And  never,  never  shun  it. 

Oh,  the  good  we  all  would  do, 

If  we'd  keep  this  thought  in  view — 

That  all  mankind  are  brothers; 
And  we'll  ever   stand  or  fall 
For  the  equal  rights  of  all, 

And  labor  for  the  good  of  others. 


88 
THE  GOLDEN  BOWL  IS  BROKEN. 

ANONYMOUS. 

JTJHK  golden  bowl  is  broken, 
X       That  held  loves  rosy  wine, 
The  last  fond  word  is  spoken 

That  hailed  thee  once  as  mine. 
We  are  fated  now  to  sever, 

Yet  on  the  land  or  sea. 
By  day,  by  night,  for  ever 

My  heart  will  yield  to  thee; 
Though  the  golden  bowl  be  broken, 

My  heart  will  yield  to  thee. 

The  silver  cord  is  silent, 

That  thrilled  beneath  thy  hand, 
As  on  some  desert  island 

Mid  fallen  hopes  I  stand, 
And  yet  where'er  I  wander, 

Thy  form  I  still  do  see, 
As  o'er  the  past  I  ponder. 

My  heart  will  yield  to  thee. 
Though  the  silver  cord  be  silent, 

My  heart  still  yields  to  thee. 

Oh  each  imperfect  token 

Is  vain  my  love  to  tell. 
Though  the  golden  bowl  be  broken 

And  the  silver  cord  as  well, 
Fond  memory  still  must  cherish 

The  hopes  so  dear  to  me, 
Till  life's  dark  dream  shall  perish, 

My  heart  will  yield  to  thee. 
Though  the  golden  bowl  be  broken, 

My  heart  will  yield  to  thee. 
Though  the  silver  cord  be  silent, 

My  heart  still  yields  to  thee. 


89 
FOR  THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN 

WHEN  first  we  came  to  mother  earth, 
Frail  little  things  were  we; 
And  tho'  our  eyes  were  very  bright, 
But  little  did  we  see. 

Our  loving  mothers  watched  o'er  us 

By  night  as  well  as  day; 
Our  little  wants  were  well  supplied, 

Though  little  did  we  say. 

And  if  our  memory  serves  us  well, 

We  didn't  speak  at  all; 
We  simply  opened  wide  our  mouths, 

And  gave  a  little  squall. 

It  answered  just  as  well  as  speech, 
We  think  perhaps  'twas  better — 

That  little,  tiny  baby  screech, 
Without  one  word  or  letter. 

Our  mammas  seemed  to  understand 

Our  every  want  and  need; 
A  fairy  queen  from  fairyland 

Ne'er  came  with  greater  speed. 

We  had  the  best  of  everything. 
Mamma  could  find,  that's  good; 

She  fixed  it  up  her  own  dear  self, 
And  gave  it  to  us  for  food. 

And  if  we  ever  wanted  more. 

It  came  at  our  command; 
A  cup  of  plenty  at  our  door, 

Another  close  at  hand. 

A  king  with  scepter  in  his  hand 
Ne'er  fared  on  better  food; 

The  best  of  all  that's  in  the  land, 
And  prepared  very  good. 


90 


Our  mammas  washed  us  every  day, 

And  combed  our  silky  hair, 
And  all  the  pay  that  mamma  got, 

Was  love  from  baby  fair. 
We  can't  remember  why  we  came, 

We  were  so  very  small; 
But  we  are  here  now  just  the  same, 

And  mamma  loves  us  all. 

I  know  'twas  mamma's  loving  care 

That  made  me  what  I  am; 
And  now  we  think  it  only  fair 

To  help  her  all  we  can. 
We  know  papa  is  very  good, 

He  thinks  he  did  his  share; 
He  used  to  hold  us  when  he  could. 

And  drive  away  dull  care. 

And  now  you've  heard  our  story  thro', 

Of  our  first  days  on  earth; 
We  hope  that  it  will  comfort  you. 

This  song  of  baby  birth. 

Oh,  may  the  angels  watch  o'er  us 

By  night  as  well  as  day; 
A  constant  vigil  o'er  us  keep, 

And  hear  us  when  we  pray. 

CHORUS. 

God  bless  our  home  so  full  of  love, 

And  may  it  ever  stay, 
Until  the  angels  from  above 

Shall  bear  our  souls  away. 

Hate  destroys  and  tears  us  down. 
But  love  will  build  for  us  a  crown 
That  we  shall  wear  in  realms  above, 
Where  hate  is  overcome  by  love. 


91 


LIBERTY. 


'JTJtS  sad  to  see  want  in  this  land  of  ours, 

1     That's  noted  for  plenty,  and  sunshine  and  flowers; 
It's  well  worth  the  while  to  find  out  the  cause, 
There  may  be  a  wrong  in  some  of  our  laws. 
Are  not  our  cousins  over  the  way 
As  well  off  or  better  than  we  are  to-day? 
But  there's  one  thing  for  which  we  all  should  be  proud, 
Our  freedom  to  speak,  if  we  dont  speak  too  loud. 
Yes,  freedom  of  speech,  and  freedom  of  pen, 
Is  a  God  given  right  to  both  Angels  and  men. 
That  man  is  not  free  who  would  not  speak  aloud, 
For  fear  that  his  views  will  not  suit  the  crowd; 
But  forever  keep  grinding  his  thoughts  in  his  head, 
Till  his  best  days  are  gone  and  he  fiuds  himself  dead. 
Then  show  up  the  light  that  is  given  to  you. 
To  light  your  own  way  and  let  others  see,  too. 
Arise  in  your  manhood  and  raise  high  your  light, 
Long  under  the  bushel  it's  been  out  of  sight. 
It's  no  use  to  you  or  an}^  one  there. 
So  lift  up  the  cover  and  give  it  the  air. 
At  first  it  may  flicker  and  maybe  go  out. 
But  light  it  again,  'twill  make  your  heart  stout. 
At  first  it  may  sputter  and  not  want  to  go. 
But  light  it  again,  'twill  soon  make  a  show. 
Great  comfort  you'll  take  when  the  flames  leap  on  high, 
And  illumine  mother  earth  and  part  of  the  sky, 
To  know  that  you  did  it  by  earnest  endeavor, 
And  you'll  cherish  and  keep  it  forever  and  ever. 
Remember  to  see  that  your  light  is  the  truth, 
For  error  will  flicker  and  die  in  its  youth. 
But  truth  will  grow  brighter,  the  longer  it  burns, 
Her  light  is  the  love  for  which  our  soul  yearns. 
So  then  do  no  falter  or  wait  for  a  chance, 
For  fear  that  your  light  is  too  much  in  advance 


Of  public  opinion  and  old  fashion  ways, 
And  lie  down  to  sleep  in  lullaby  lays. 
For  while  you're  asleep  the  world's  moving  on. 
And  when  you  awake  your  chance  may  be  gone. 
You'll  find  in  this  life  brave  ones  are  ahead, 
Whilst  cowards  and  weaklings  have  to  be  led. 
If  you  have  one  thought  you  know  in  advance, 
Just  raise  up  the  bushel  and  give  it  a  chance. 
It  may  some  day  do  as  did  Noah's  dove, 
Return  home  again  with  emblems  of  love, 
lyift  up  the  bushel  and  let  shine  your  light, 
Some  may  be  lost  in  the  dark  depths  of  night, 
Your  light  may  then  be  the  saving  of  life, 
The  bringing  of  comfort  to  children  and  wife. 
You  know  not  the  good  that  your  light  may  do. 
The  helping  of  others  is  sure  to  help  you. 
Then  hold  up  your  light  whenever  you  can. 
And  be  of  some  use  to  poor  fellow  man. 

THE  RESTLESS  BROOK. 

HY  have  we  such  mournful  faces? 

What  makes  us  feel  as  if  we'd  cry? 
Just  listen  to  the  happy  murmur 

Of  the  brook  now  gliding  by. 
It  pauses  not  to  stop  and  tell  us 

Of  the  stony  paths  that  it  came  o'er, 
Or  how  it  tumbled  oflf  the  mountain. 

Falling  a  thousand  feet  or  more. 
How  it  dashed  among  the  boulders, 

How  it  arose  in  mist  and  spray. 
And  how  the  wind  did  bear  it  seaward, 

And  dropped  it  far  out  on  the  bay; 
And  of  all  the  mighty  struggles 

That  it  had  with  wind  and  tide, 
How  at  last  it  soared  above  them, 

Again  was  dashed  on  mountain-side. 


W 


93 


How  it  always  is  arising 

Over  vale  and  hill  and  plain, 
Aiid  all  nature  smiles  with  gladness 

At  the  coming  of  the  rain. 
Never  does  it  stop  to  mutter 

As  it  swiftly  glides  along, 
That  its  path  is  rough  and  stony, 

That  its  course  is  deep  and  long. 

But  ever  onw^ard,  never  resting. 

Winding  through  the  meadows  fair, 

Sun  and  tide  and  wind  obeying, 
Showering  blessings  everywhere. 


@ 


STRAY  THOUGHTS. 

H,  have  we  nothing  new  to-day, 

No  lofty  thoughts  from  realms  of  light, 

No  word  to  guide  us  on  our  way 
To  glorious  mansions  out  of  sight? 

Hark!  Methinks  I  hear  a  voice, 
'Tis  borne  to  us  on  wings  of  light; 

It  bids  us  look,  take  heart,  rejoice; 
It  rends  the  veil  that  dims  our  sight. 

It  speaks  to  us  good  words  of  cheer 
And  bid  us  ope  our  eyes  and  look. 

It  drives  away  each  anxious  tear 

And  bids  us  learn  from  Nature's  book. 

To  read  aright  will  make  us  wise, 
The  scales  from  off  our  eyes  will  fall, 

And  we  will  find  to  our  surprise. 
That  God  is  love,  and  loves  us  all. 


94 


I  have  no  time  to  write  a  verse 
Or  e'en  an  old  one  to  rehearse; 
For  soon  the  sun,  with  brilliant  ray, 
Will  usher  in  the  light  of  day, 
And  as  it  doth  to  zenith  climb 
And  measure  off  to  us  the  time, 
We  should  be  sure  that  'tis  well  spent 
And  nothing  done  we  need  repent. 


O,  happy  the  man  who's  at  peace  with  himself 

And  who  has  no  dissentions  within, 
While   the   bright  ray  of  love  ever  shines  in  his 
breast, 

And  his  conscience  is  free  from  all  sin. 
The  winds  they  may  blow  and  the  mad  billows  roar, 

The  rain  on  his  bare  head  descend, 
The  storm  in  its  fury  may  break  in  his  door, 

Yet  he  knows  'tis  the  work  of  a  friend. 


We  need  not  look  without  for  proof, 

But  turn  our  thoughts  within, — 
What  caused  the  beating  of  the  heart. 

The  place  where  life  begins? 
We  did  not  come  of  our  own  will, 

Nor  were  we  asked  about  it, 
God's  love  did  in  our  being  thrill, 

We'd  not  been  here  without  it. 
If,  then,  we  came  here  by  God's  love- 

And  you  need  never  doubt  us — 
We  will  return  to  him  above. 

He  would  not  be  without  us. 

Then  let  us  strive  to  raise  our  eyes 
To  things  that  are  above  us, 

And  courage  take,  we'll  win  the  prize, 
So  surely  as  God  loves  us. 


95 

I  was  plowing  in  the  field  to-day, 
When  a  thought  came  in  my  head, 

And  this  is  what  it  seemed  to  say, 
Or  what  I  thought  it  said: 

Why  delve  so  hard  with  plow  and  hoe, 

A  living  to  obtain! 
Just  let  the  manual  labor  go, 

And  work  more  with  the  brain. 

They  have  the  most  of  earthly  gain, 
Who  reap  where  others  sow, 

For  them  there  is  no  lack  of  grain, 
They  reap  where'er  they  go. 


No  one  can  live  the  highest  life, 

Who  tries  to  live  for  self  alone. 
Each  one  should  have  a  mate  in  life, 

And  children  dear  should  bless  each  home. 

There 're  many  different  kinds  of  love, 

'Tis  even  found  in  lowest  life. 
The  best  of  all  comes  from  above, 

'Tis  love  for  home,  and  child,  an  i  wife. 

Some  love  is  blind,  it  cannot  see, 
'Tis  apt  to  stumble,  it  may  fall, 
No  matter  what  our  destiny, 
Blind  love's  preferred  to  none  at  all. 

Some  people  have  a  love  for  fame. 
And  some  have  love  for  worldly  pelf. 

And  some  desire  to  have  a  name. 
That  will  resound  in  praise  of  self. 

This  world  of  ours  is  one  of  strife: 
In  darkness  we  do  vainly  grope, 

So  long  as  there's  a  spark  of  life. 
There  always  is  a  ray  of  hope. 


I 


96 
THE  FOLLY  OF  WISDOM. 

F  "little  wisdom  is  a  dangerous  thing," 
Why!  greater  will  more  danger  bring. 
Then  set  your  stake  right  hear  at  once 
And  nothing  learn — ^just  be  a  dunce. 

This  constant  rush  for  wealth  and  fame 
Is  very  trying  to  our  frame, 
Breaks  down  the  nerves,  disturbs  the  heart, 
And  misery  reigns  in  every  part. 

Then  whats  the  use  to  fret  and  stew, 
'Cause  others  are  ahead  of  you? 
No  matter,  whether  foe  or  friend, 
We  all  will  reach  our  journey's  end. 

And  if  we  loiter  on  the  way, 
And  idly  spend  our  time  to-day. 
We'll  reach  the  goal,  we  need  not  fear, 
There's  always  someone  in  the  rear. 

At  right  or  left,  in  front  or  rear. 
The  learned  man  is  always  near. 
And  if  you  have  good  common  sense, 
And  also  blessed  with  "Peters'  pence," 
You  just  begin  a  little  blinking 
And  wisest  men  will  do  your  thinking. 

Now,  this  may  sound  a  little  tough; 
No  man  has  ever  had  enough 
Of  earthly  praise,  or  wealth  or  fame, 
And  if  he's  learned  'tis  just  the  same; 
Just  mention  gold  and  wink  your  eye — 
You  can  his  wakeful  moments  buy. 

Nay,  more,  he'll  work  from  dark  till  day 
If  you  will  just  increase  his  pay, 
And  if  he  knew,  by  rise  of  sun 
His  earthly  life  would  all  be  done, 


w 


97 

He'd  work  for  you  with  hand  and  brain, 
If  he  but  could  more  gold  obtain. 

Why  should  we  then  e'er  go  to  school, 
If  wisest  man  is  biggest  fool? 

CALIFORNIA  MEDLEY. 

E'VE  reached  the  land  of  milk  and  honey, 
Where  w^ater  is  scarce — and  so  is  money, 
But  flowers  are  in  perpetual  bloom, 
The  air  is  filled  with  sweet  perfume. 

chorus: 
Oh,  sunny  land,  dear  sunny  land, 
Our  love  for  thee  will  ever  stand, 
Though  we've  had  trouble  o'er  and  o'er 
Since  coming  to  this  sunny  shore. 
And  yet,  w^e  know  that  God  doth  rule; 
This  life  is  but  an  infant  school. 

The  golden  fruit  is  on  the  trees, 
'Tis  fanned  each  day  by  ocean  breeze; 
At  night  the  mountain  zephyrs  blow, 
For  God  Himself  hath  made  it  so. 

Our  fruits  they  ripen  one  by  one, 
Ere  one  is  gone  others  have  come; 
From  early  peach  to  winter  pear. 
There  is  enough  and  some  to  spare. 

We  w^elcome  strangers  to  our  shore; 
We  like  your  gold — if  nothing  more; 
And  when  you  come,  join  in  our  class 
And  stay  as  long  as  money  lasts. 

Now,  if  you  think  of  coming  here, 
Mind  you,  the  soil  is  very  dear; 
So  look  around  and  use  great  care — 
You  buy  the  soil  and  not  the  air. 


98 


O,  'tis  a  land  of  great  surprise, 
You  scarcely  can  believe  your  eyes; 
And  if  you  store  up  all  you  hear, 
You'll  truly  need  a  donkey's  ear. 

'Tis  best  to  note  all  points  of  view; 
Give  ear  to  those  you  know  are  true; 
And  then  look  out,  for  you  may  find 
That  someone  had  an  ax  to  grind. 

Now  this  advice  may  not  please  you, 
But  you  will  find  my  words  are  true: 
If  you  would  save  your  hoarded  pelf 
Have  but  one  friend,  and  that — yourself. 

To  write  this  verse  it  makes  me  sad: 
Some  of  the  soil  is  very  bad; 
To  raise  a  crop  you  need  not  try, 
It  is  so  full  of  alkali. 

Of  fishes  we  have  several  score — 
There's  whale,  and  cod,  and  many  more; 
And  as  for  shark,  all  must  agree 
They're  found  on  land  and  in  the  sea. 

And  when  you  take  an  ocean  ride 
With  wife  and  children  by  your  side, 
You  may  see  shark,  but,  understand. 
We  only  fear  those  found  on  land. 

Saddest  of  all,  we  must  relate: 
Most  every  one  will  take  a  bait; 
It  matters  not  how  nice  the  look, 
Beneath  you'll  find  the  angler's  hook. 

These  lines  I've  written  by  request 
And  not  because  I  thought  it  best; 
So  do  not  lay  the  blame  on  me, 
For  I've  no  kick  to  make,  you  see. 


99 


We  love  to  hear  old  ocean  roar, 
As  wave  rolls  wave  upon  the  shore, 
We  love,  O  Lord,  we  love  to  be, 
In  sweet  communion  here  with  Thee. 

We  thank  Thee  for  this  glorious  rain, 
For  it  assures  us  grass  and  grain; 
It  makes  our  drooping  spirits  rise — 
These  heavenly  blessings  from  the  skies. 

Our  Father,  God  of  Hght  and  love, 
Who  ruleth  all  things  from  above! 
For  what  we  are  and  are  to  be 
Accept  our  heartfelt  thanks  to  Thee. 

LA  GRIPPE. 

WELL,  I  am  here,  my  name's  La  Grippe; 
I've  seen  you  all  before; 
I've  traveled  over  land  and  sea 
A  thousand  years  or  more. 

The  people  know  me  when  I  come. 
Though  they  are  seldom  pleased; 

I  toot  no  horn,  I  beat  no  drum — 
My  salute  is  a  sneeze. 

I  grasp  my  victim  in  the  back 

And  chill  his  very  marrow; 
Where'er  I  go  I  leave  my  track, 

'Tis  known  by  mounds  of  sorrow. 

Although  I'm  not  a  welcome  guest. 

And  never  asked  to  come, 
E'en  to  the  babe  at  mother's  breast 

I  make  myself  at  home. 

'Tis  seldom  I  forget  the  aged; 

They  never  forget  me, 
I  leave  a  mark  on  mem'ry's  page 

So  plain  that  all  may  see. 


100 


I  make  them  cough,  and  sneeze,  and  sneeze, 

And  tears  run  from  their  eyes, 
Their  bones  all  ache — they  think  they'll  freeze, 

I  take  them  by  surprise. 

Yet  some  are  glad  whene'er  I  make 
My  oft-recurring  round, 
'Tis  those  who  bury  their  mistakes 
Half-fathom  under  ground. 

But  these  are  not  the  only  ones. 

Who  hail  me  with  delight, — 
For  some  will  reap  where  I  have  sown. 

They  hide  my  work  from  sight. 

Yes,  there  are  more  whose  purse  will  grow 

Wherever  I  am  known. 
They  mark  the  spot,  so  all  may  know, 

With  stately  granite-stone. 

THE    BANTAM. 

PJ^IylPPING,  flapping  and  running  about, 
P      You're  changed  by  each  wind  that  blows; 

There's  a  turmoil  within  when  all's  calm  without, 
You're  awake  when  all  others  repose. 

You  have  no  aim  in  life,  think  only  of  self, 
And  squack  if  one  treads  on  your  toes; 

You  elbow  along  to  the  top  of  the  shelf. 
Hitting  others  a  peck  on  the  nose. 

It  matters  not  who  you  run  up  against, 

As  changes  the  wind  so  do  you, 
And  one  has  to  look  on  both  sides  the  fence 

To  discover  which  way  you  flew. 

Maybe  you'll  perch  on  the  top  for  awhile 
Flap  your  wings  and  give  a  coo-coo, 

And  then  strut  around  on  the  top  of  the  stile 
Undecided  what  next  you  will  do. 


© 


101 


You  straddle  the  fence  and  look  all  around, 

To  see  where  the  most  people  go; 
In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  you're  sure  to  be  found, 

You'd  much  rather  drift  than  to  row. 

You  always  are  drifting,  you  make  no  pretense 

Of  building  wherever  you  go; 
When  others  succeed  you're  first  on  the  fence, 

And  are  always  the  loudest  to  crow. 

GOOD  5PEAKINQ. 

H,  how  we  love  to  hear  good  speeches, 
Oh,  how  it  makes  our  hearts  rejoice. 
When  the  speaker  the  climax  reaches 
And  we  hear  our  own  sweet  voice. 

You  may  talk  about  the  joys  of  Heaven, 
Where  we  will  soar  on  wings  of  love. 
For  unto  us  there  will  be  given 
A  mansion  in  that  home  above. 

But  here  on  earth  we  sigh  for  pleasure, 
For  praise  that  makes  our  hearts  rejoice, 
Our  cup  o'erflows,  so  full  the  measure, 
When  we  can  hear  our  own  sweet  voice. 

It  matters  not,  with  fact  or  fiction 
We  strive  to  stir  each  beating  heart. 
Or  it  may  be  some  strange  prediction 
That  we  would  to  the  world  impart. 

'Tis  all  the  same,  we  haste  to  tell  it. 
We'll  sound  our  trumpet  loud  and  clear. 
And  we  will  have  no  doubts  about  it, 
T'will  surely  come,  the  time  is  near. 

But  ah,  alas!  we  were  mistaken. 
It  did  not  happen  after  all, 
We  feel  so  sad,  almost  forsaken, 
Our  pride  has  had  a  mighty  fall. 


102 

And  now  we  sit  with  both  ears  open, 

To  listen  is  the  wisest  choice, 

For  we  have  found,  we  gained  more  wisdom 

B}''  listening  to  a  wise  man's  voice. 

TROUBLESOME    NOSE. 

WE  start  at  the  sound  of  the  wind  when  it  blows, 
As  it  sometimes  awakes  us  from  quiet  repose. 
And  we  tremble  with  fear  at  the  thunder's  loud  roar, 
But  naught  e'er  disturbs  like  the  nose  with  a  snore. 

You  may  talk  of  the  storm  on  the  wild  raging  sea, 

As  the  winds  bear  us  on  in  wild  spiteful  glee. 

The  creaking  of  timbers,  the  flapping  of  sail, 

The  roar  of  the  billows,  as  they're  tossed  by  the  gale. 

And  all  nature  is  suffering  the  terrors  of  death, 

And  we  fear  every  moment  she'll  draw  her  last  breath, 

And  the  call  of  death's  angel  is  heard  in  the  roar, 

Yet  naught  grates  the  nerves  like  the  sound  of  a  snore. 

The  hoarse,  grating  torrent  sweeping  on  to  the  seas. 
Breaking  rocks  from  the  mountains,   and  limbs  from  the 
Or  the  sound  of  a  battle,  the  cannons'  loud  roar,     [trees, 
Is  sweet  heavenly  music  compared  to  a  snore. 

In  the  midst  of  a  battle  some  have  fallen  asleep, 
Regardless  of  scenes  that  would  make  angels  weep. 
But  there's  many  a  man  who  could  ne'er  find  repose. 
If  within  the  dread  sound  of  a  snore-venting  nose. 

The  rasping  and  gasping  and  groaning  for  breath, 

The  poising  in  balance  between  life  and  death, 

With  a  rising  inflection  to  the  roof  he  will  soar. 

Till  the  base  notes  are  reached  and  he  drops  to  the  floor. 

Just  think  of  the  racket  of  chaos  broke  loose, 
From  the  bray  of  a  mule  to  the  hiss  of  a  goose; 
There's  no  use  denying,  'tis  death  to  repose: 
This  killer  of  sleep — the  cacophonous  nose. 


103 

The  scream  of  the  eagle,  the  lion's  loud  roar, 
The  sound  of  the  waves  as  they  break  on  the  shore, 
All  blend  in  sweet  music  as  heavenward  they  soar, 
But  there's  no  lofty  thoughts  in  the  sound  of  a  snore. 

The  seasons  they  come,  and  the  seasons  they  go — 
The  bright  summer's  sun   and  the  midwinter's  snow;- 
But  there's  nothing,  save  the  tongue,  I  suppose, 
In  nature,  to  compare  to  a  troublesome  nose. 

The  thunders  of  summer,  the  winter's  cold  breath. 
The  cyclone  that  brings  destruction  and  death; 
The  shake  of  the  earth,  its  far-distant  roar, 
Is  as  naught  when  compared  to  a  violent  snore. 

We  hope  no  offense  will  be  taken   by  those 
Who  may  chance  to  have  such  a  troublesome  nose, 
Like  a  boatman  asleep  while  the  cataract  roars — 
Your  nose  isn't  to  blame — it's  asleep  when  it  snores. 

Some  good  advice  we  will  offer  to  give, 
And  hope  that  you  all  will  kindly  receive — 
'Tis:  when  you  retire  to  take  sweet  repose, 
Close  your  mouth  firmly — and  then  keep  it  closed. 

Just  think  of  the  sun,  being  made  to  stand  still. 
And  all  nature  obeying  General  Joshua's  will. 
And  now  if  we  try  with  our  might,  I  suppose, 
That  we  might  control  this  troublesome  nose. 


Talk  not  about  the  wrath  of  God, 
Or  e'en  of  his  displeasure; 

Of  how  he  holds  the  chastening  rod. 
To  scourge  us  at  his  leasure. 


When  man  can  quench  Vesuvius'  breath, 
Or  dam  Niagara  with  a  straw; 

Then  will  we  slay  the  monster  d.eath. 
And  life  will  be  without  a  flaw. 


104 


JAKE,  UNT  FRITZ,  UNT  flE. 

/5)OME  here  my  boys,  we'll  sing  one  song, 
\Jj     You  ne'er  before  did  see; 

Methinks  it  won't  be  very  long, 
'Bout  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 
We  goes  mit  Dewey's  boat  upon, 

When  it  went  out  to  sea; 
We  think  he  never  gets  along 
'Out  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

chorus: 
O,  Dewey's  going  home. 
He's  now  upon  the  sea. 
He's  left  us  here  to  weep  and  mourn — 
Old  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

Jake  cooks  the  grub,  Fritz  heaves  the  coal, 

I  shoots  the  gun,  you  see. 
And  when  the  sergeant  calls  the  roll 

We're  always  there,  we  three. 
We  looks  not  out  for  one  soft  place, 

We  cares  not  what  it  be, 
But  Admir'l  Dewey  wins  his  case 

Mit  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

The  peoples  all  they  will  turn  out, 

This  Dewey  man  to  see; 
We  thinks  they  will — ''mocks  leedle  oud" 

Mit  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 
But  when  we  meets  that  Spanish  race, 

What  good  would  Dewey  be. 
Unless  the  men  were  in  their  place. 

Like  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

We  just  keep  still,  say  not  one  word, 

We're  in  our  place,  you  see; 
When  we  the  Admiral's  orders  heard, 

We  work  right  well,  we  three. 


105 


We  think  the  Isles  would  got  away 

As  easy  as  could  be, 
Were  not  our  men  upon  that  bay, 

Like  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

We  cared  not  for  their  shot  or  shell 

Or  mines  beneath  the  sea; 
We  knew^  our  duty — did  it  well — 

Old  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 
We  drove  them  back  along  the  shore, 

Our  aim  was  good,  you  see; 
We  sunk  their  boats  to  rise  no  more. 

Old  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

We  would  not  take  one  glory  oflf 

The  Admiral — no,  not  we, 
But  just  remember  and  hats  doflf 

To  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 
And  now  we've  sung  our  little  song, 

We'll  go  below,  we  three. 
But  when  we're  wanted,  call  upon 

Old  Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me. 

GALILEO'S  PRISON  SONG. 

ANONYMOUS 

THOUGH  you  fear  me,  though  you  doubt  me, 
I  shall  win,  whate'er  befall; 
Though  5^ou  jeer  me,  though  you  flout  me, 

Truth  and  I  against  you  all! 
Though  you  bend  me,  though  you  break  me, 

Time  and  I  against  you  all; 
Time  and  truth  at  last  shall  make  me 
Lord  of  you  who  am  your  thrall. 

Though  you  chain  me,  though  you  burn  me, 
Yet  the  earth,  though  that  befall, 

Moves,  and  though  you  daunt  and  turn  me. 
It  still  moves  in  spite  of  all! 


OONTBNTS. 


Invocation ' 5 

Hope  of  Immortality 6 

Reverie 7 

Brig^hter  Day 8 

Could  1 9 

Ivove 10 

Slumbering- Germs 11 

At  Sea 12 

Prayer  and  Song- , 14 

Words  with  Wing-s 15 

Song- 16 

Thoug-hts 17 

Passion — No.  1 18 

Passion— No.  2 19 

Inspiration 20 

The  Dawn  of  Truth 21 

A  Day  Dream  23 

Building 24 

Reflections 25 

Song 26 

A  Few  Questions 28 

Search  for   Truth 29 

Meditation 30 

When  Day  is  Done 31 

Life 31 

Prayer 32 

Contentment 33 

God's  Ivove 35 

L<ove  Divine 36 

Desire   to  Help  Others 37 

Song 38 

Beauties  of  Nature. 39 

Only  a  Child 40 

Holy  Angels 41 

The  God  of  Nature 42 

Time 43 

Time  No.  II 45 

Sowing 46 

Environment 47 

Why  should  we  Fear  Death  49 

Good-By  to  1900 51 

For  my  Children 52 

Why   that  Frown 53 

A  Few  Thoughts 54 

Mother's  Ivove 56 

Thoughts  on  Training  Day  57 


The  Rain 57 

One  Step  Higher 58 

Man  without  a  Hoe 59 

Alone 62 

Smiles 63 

How  Pleasant....     63 

Make  a  Friend  of  Yourself    64 

America... 65 

Christmas    for   the  Child- 
ren      66 

Response  to  an  Kncore 67 

Avalon 68 

Apology     to    a    Wounded 

Foot 71 

Boyhood  Days 72 

The  Haven  of  Rest 73 

To  the  Memory  of  a  Grand- 
child      74 

Ticking 76 

To  Father 77 

Decoration  Day,  1900 78 

For  James   K.    Baker    on 

His  83d  Birthday 79 

Thoughts    on    Thankgiv- 

ing  Day 79 

The  Spark  Divine 80 

An  Excuse  to  a  Friend  for 

Not  Writing  a  Poem 80 

The  Ocean 81 

Waiting 84 

Soliloquy 85 

Good  Advice 86 

The       Golden       Bowl     is 

Broken 88 

For  the  Eittle  Children 89 

Lriberty 91 

The  Restless  Brook 92 

Stray  Thoughts 93 

The  Folly  of  Wisdom 96 

California  Medley 97 

La  Grippe 99 

The  Bantam 100 

Good  Speaking 101 

Troublesome  Nose 102 

Jake,  unt  Fritz,  unt  me....  104 
Galileo's  Prison  Song 105 


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